


48 Hours

by PanicMoon15



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanicMoon15/pseuds/PanicMoon15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss and Gale have been getting closer recently and now being trapped under the same roof for 48 hours, how with their relationship evolve? With mothers and siblings ready to interrupt at every corner, how will they cope? Galeniss/Everthorne   [Katniss never reaped.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> The first of God knows how many chapters. Enjoy :)

_Gale and Katniss have been becoming closer and closer recently. With them trapped under the same roof for 48 hours, how will their desires flourish, or will they be forced to put their feelings aside as many siblings interrupt?_

I can’t decide if it’s a good day or a bad day.

It’s a good day because the Capitol have declared the next 48 hours ‘Open to Mandatory Viewing’, which means we all have to keep our schedules open as we may be required to watch the television at any time. It also means Gale and I, and the rest of the kids, get the day off school. In addition to this, we do not have a working television in our house, which means we get to spend the next day living with the Hawthorne’s and any extra time with my best friend is a good thing.

It’s a bad day because everyone over the age of 18 has to take two days off work. Which means no pay, which in most people’s cases isn’t good, even for the merchants. It’s also a bad day because with the impending instruction to turn on the television, the electricity will be on all the time and electricity equals electric fence and that means no hunting, which also equates to no privacy.

“Why do we _have_ to watch the games today?” Prim asks, folding a small pink dress that was once mine, then hers and now will be gifted to Posy Hawthorne.

I shrug, but her back is to me and she doesn’t see my motion. “Something important must be going to happen.” I say and Prim stops what she’s folding and turns to me.

“Important?” she asks.

I nod and hope she drops the subject. If she has no inclination as to why we will be forced to watch today and tomorrow, I don’t want to tell her what I suspect.

Apparently my nod is enough for Prim and she goes back to folding and piling up some of our old clothes. I go back to sewing closed a hole in the seam of one of my old t-shirts that I have been working on for well over twenty minutes. I’m not particularly domestic, but a life of necessity has allowed me to gain some fair seamstress skills, but the thought of why we will be making the short walk over to the Hawthorne’s house to watch the TV distracts me.

I expect this 48 hours ‘Open to Mandatory Viewing’ is down to this years Hunger Games almost being over. When it comes down to it, they want us to see the tribute become a victor, live. Last I heard, it was down to six, five careers and the boy from District 11, but I try not to hear. Even when the television is required to be on and we have to stay inside to watch, Gale and I try to occupy ourselves with other things, especially since our tributes are long gone.

Each year our tributes die is hard, but I knew both of them this year, which has made watching especially traumatising. The boy was in my year at school: Peeta Mellark. He didn’t last long past the bloodbath. It was a shame. I never knew him well but Gale and I trade with his father, so we’ve spoken a couple of times. The girl, I knew too. Well, I knew who she was. Samia Cartwright. The younger sister of a girl in my year at school, only 13. A year older them Prim and Rory. People were betting she wouldn’t last five minutes- she didn’t.

I’m pulled from my thoughts of the Hunger Games by my mother calling my name.

“Katniss?” she prompts.

“What? Sorry?” I ask, oblivious to her original question.

She stands at the other end of the room, pulling a cardigan over Prim’s shoulders. “I said ‘will you hurry and finish fixing that shirt for Posy, we need to get going?’”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.” I quickly close the hole in the fabric and pile it onto the other clothes we’re taking over to the Hawthorne’s. My mother and Prim carry a small basket each filled with food to contribute to the meals for the next 48 hours, leaving me to carry the pile of little girls’ clothing.

The walk is short and so familiar to all three of us that we could do it in the dead of night (and I have) but Prim still stays close to our mother and constantly looks around at me as I trail slightly behind, thinking of the last time I walked this route in the dark. I blush at the thought of meeting Gale at two in the morning to go hunting for the nocturnal creatures. The feeling of the blush in my cheeks surprises me. Gale and I have had a very close but platonic friendship for years. The thought of meeting in the dark, no matter how innocent our intentions were, somehow rouses increasingly frequent and embarrassing thoughts inside of me. Thoughts that I’ve been struggling to control over the past few months.

Prim calls my name. I’ve been falling even further behind my mother and sister, lost in a fuzzy haze of Gale and blushes. I jog a few steps to catch up to them. There are Peacekeepers everywhere on the streets making sure we’re all getting to where we need to be. Once upon a time every single house had a working television, but now there are many families who crowd into each other’s houses to watch the games. Those who have nowhere to go spend the day in the square, waiting for it to appear on the large screen, cold and hungry.

We arrive at the Hawthorne’s and walk inside without knocking. Hazelle is expecting us and she envelops Prim and my mother in a hug.

“The kids are out back.” She informs Prim, who grins and carefully places down the basket of food before going to see her friends. Hazelle hugs me next and looks down at the bundle of fabric in my arms.

“For Posy.” My mother explains, and begins doing something with the food in the kitchen.

“Oh, Katniss” Hazelle gushes, taking the t-shirt I had just fixed from the top of the pile. “You shouldn’t have.”

I feel awkward and my ears begin to get hot as a stutter out a “it’s fine” and a “well, they don’t fit us anymore”.

Hazelle knows me well, perhaps even better than my own mother, and stops being so grateful at my discomfort. “Thank you.” She states simply and gives me another hug.

“Your welcome.” I smile. I’m about to ask where Gale is when Hazelle beats me to it.

“He’s in mine and Posy’s room” she nods over to the door. I must have a confused look on my face because she adds, “He’s fixing one of the drawers in there.”

“I’ll take these through, then.” I say and she gently pushes me in the direction of her room.

I walk over to the closed door and briefly wonder if I should knock. I decide there’s really no point but even as I open it, I get a weird feeling, like I’m intruding being in Hazelle’s room. Gale is sat cross-legged on the floor of the room, in front of the chest of drawers, pulling the middle one in and out. On hearing me enter, he looks up.

“Hey, Catnip.” He grins, and I find myself grinning back, overwhelmingly happy that he’s here, even though I was expecting him. “I’m just finished.” He replies to my silent question.

I close the bedroom door with my foot and place the pile of clothes down onto the chest of drawers, which Gale leans against.

“What are…?” he begins to ask of the clothes by I cut him off with a hug. He stops talking and hugs me back, tucking my head under his chin and kissing the top of my braid. “You okay?” he mumbles into my hair. We hug fairly often, more often recently, but this sudden outburst of affection takes him by surprise.

I nod, and breathe him in deeply, savouring the smell of pine needles and just Gale. We stand like this for a few minutes, rocking slightly and Gale running his fingers up and down my back. “It’s going to be today I bet.” I say quietly, thinking of the impending death of five young people in that horrific arena.

“Yeah, or tomorrow.” Gale suggests. He pulls away from me slightly, still keeping his arms around my waist.

“I’m so glad it’s not you.” I can’t help saying it. I don’t intend to, but thinking of those kids being murdered in the capitol gives me an overwhelming sense of gratitude that Gale is here with me, and that at 18 he never has to risk going there again. The thought of him having to eventually go down the mines like our fathers is quickly forced from my mind when Gale speaks into my hair.

“I’m glad it’s not you either, Catnip.” He mumbles.

I ruin the moment with an “It still might be.” Murmured into his chest.

“Don’t say that.” Gale instructs, lifting my face so that our eyes meet, his grey and stormy. “Please” he begs, “do not say that.”

I’m taken aback by his seriousness so much that I just agree to his request without any argument; not what my stubborn nature would usually allow. “Okay.” I say quietly, and he rests his chin atop my head.

We’re quiet for a few seconds until Gale speaks. “What did you bring?” he asks, looking at the clothing, changing the subject.

I smile gratefully at the alteration in our conversation. “They’re for Posy. Just some stuff that doesn’t fit Prim that we kept a hold of. Thought they might do for Posy.”

“That’s kind.” He smiles.

“It’s nothing.” I assure him, shrugging.

Gale grins at me and pulls away completely. I’m somewhat saddened at our lack of physical contact until he takes my hand and pulls me over to sit with him on Hazelle and Posy’s bed. He scoots back so that his back is against the wall and his legs can stretch across the width of the bed. I go to settle next to him but he pulls me onto his lap.

My cheeks flush at the gesture and I smile shyly at my best friend. It’s weird because I’ve sat on his lap before, a lot. When out families get together I often perch on his knees so that someone else can have a seat, but this is different. For one, there’s more than enough room for both of us, and secondly, we’re on a bed. Somehow that makes this whole situation much more intimate. Thinking this makes me blush even more.

When I look up at Gale for the second time, he’s wearing a rather worried expression on his face.

“Is..is this okay…I mean, I should have asked…um.” He stutters, scratching the back of his neck.

I can’t help but grin at his adorableness. “It’s fine.” I confirm, and in a sudden wave of bravery I shift even further up his lap so there’s only a few layers of fabric between the most private parts of us.

He gulps, and places a hand on my thigh. “Is this…?” he asks, slowly moving his hand up my inner leg.

“Yeah.” I breathe, feeling a sudden warm sensation flutter in my stomach at his unfamiliar actions.

We watch each other for a little while. Gale gently runs his fingers up my inner thigh and I allow my hands to roam underneath the hem of his navy t-shirt. I allow my fingers to touch each one of his toned muscles in turn, gradually making it higher up his body. He gasps at the feeling of my fingers on his bare skin and I smile, proud I can elicit such a reaction from him even though this is my only experience with this variation of activity.

Gale stops touching my leg and stills my hands with his own. I look up at him questioningly, worried that I might have done something wrong. “Y-you might need to move off my lap if you keep doing that.” He says, grinning sheepishly.

I smile devilishly, realising I have in fact done the opposite to something wrong, and make a move as if I am about to stand. Instead I simply readjust my position on his lap, grinding myself against his crotch. Gale hisses and swallows thickly.

“Katniss…” he warns but this only encourages me and I slip a hand back up his t-shirt.

Gale rests a hand on my thigh and the other on my back, an indication that any reluctance he previously had to our position is now gone. I lay my head on his chest and watch the mound of my hand hidden by the navy fabric, travel up his torso. I bite my lip when my thumb finds his nipple and I circle it a couple of times. His groan sends a sudden throb between my legs, which is only increased when I feel him move under me, growing hard.

“Can I?” He asks, moving his hand from my clothed thigh, under my own top. I nod, my own hand stilling in on his chest. Gale pushes a thumb in the top of my pants and I gasp. He stops at the sound but I look up at him and silently plea him to continue his voyage. He does.

He undoes the button on my dark jeans with his nimble fingers, keeping his thumb under the hem. He moves his hand slowly down, taking the zip with him. It’s nothing like I’ve ever experienced before. I’m somewhat familiar with the throb and growing wetness between my legs, but a lack of privacy and experience has never allowed me to take touching myself any further than a few minutes of experimentation when bathing. Feeing Gale’s fingers reach lower and lower is building a new coil of feelings deep in my stomach. My heartbeat increases. A calloused finger reaches lower than the others and I gasp as it catches the bundle of nerves, sending electricity buzzing through me like the electric fence. The finger dips even lower and I gasp as Gale delves in to my wetness. He kisses my temple, letting his lips linger and another finger finds my clit again. I groan in pleasure when the bedroom door flies open.

Gale retracts his hands from my jeans but keeps them wrapped around me, clasped on my lower abdomen. I’m about to rip his hands away from me in embarrassment when I realise that he’s picked the lesser of two evils: someone catching us with his hands down my pants, or someone catching us in a fairly intimate hug- his hands covering my undone trousers, and my body covering his apparent arousal.

I look up from his hands on my stomach to the person in the doorway and let out a breath I was unaware I was holding, escape. Little Posy Hawthorne stands at the entrance to the bedroom with a confused look on her face. At four years old, she’s simply confused as to why we’re hugging on her and her mother’s bed. She suspects nothing else.

“Can I help you?” Gale asks of our uninvited guest, and I’m impressed at the normalcy of his voice when I can still feel his evidence of our activities beneath my bottom.

Posy blinks and the confused expression disappears, giving way to one of elation. She bounds over to the bed, climbing on and throwing her arms around me. I automatically hug her back but Gale doesn’t remove his hands from my stomach.

“Prim said you brought me new clothes, Katniss.” She grins and leans forward to give me a kiss.

“Well, Prim is correct.” I say and impress myself with the normalcy of _my_ voice. “Why don’t you take a look at those over there?” I point towards the pile of faded pinks and lilacs and Posy’s face lights up.

She climbs off the bed and runs over to the dresser to inspect the clothes. Posy carefully lifts them down and begins opening each folded item out with such care that it almost breaks my heart. The clothes are old and worn and most of them have obvious patches and stitches in them, but Posy’s eyes are wide with wonder when she asks “They’re all for _me_?”

“All for you.” I confirm and she goes back to pouring over each item.

When I’m sure she’s distracted enough, I pull myself away from Gale and turn my back to her, facing him. He smirks as I zip up my fly and button my pants. I look down at his own pants and can see that the intrusion of his youngest sibling has now killed any evidence of our explorations. Mine however, is still uncomfortably wet in my underwear.

Gale lifts the fingers of the hand that had less then five minutes ago been down my pants to his lips. The throb in my underwear returns as his casually licks his fingers. I’ll get him back for that, I think, as another body enters the room.

“Come on, guys. Dinner’s ready.” Rory informs us.

“Okay, we’re coming.” Gale replies from the bed.

Rory remains in the doorway as I turn away from Gale. He fixes both of us with the very same look Posy awarded us a few minutes ago. One of complete and utter confusion. “Why are you on the bed?” he asks, and I feel my eyes go wide and my face pale. Rory Hawthorne is not his innocent four-year-old sister.

“They were cuddling.” Posy informs him casually, without looking at him, pulling a pink dress on over her clothes.

Rory looks at Gale, then me, then back at Gale. I follow his lead and slowly turn to Gale. It angers me to see how unaffected by this situation he looks. I’m slowly dying of embarrassment and he looks anything but.

“Cuddling?” Rory asks and I actually can’t help but smile at the edge of disgust I can hear in his voice. Innocent or not, he’s still very much a twelve year old boy.

“Yeah.” Gale confirms, and my smile dies, as my desire to slap him becomes top priority. “We’re coming, Rory.” He says again and I hear Rory’s footsteps as he leaves the room followed by some lighter, Posy-sized, ones.

I slap Gale on the chest. Hard. And then we follow the kids out to the kitchen for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review please. Let me know what you think.  
> xxx


	2. Tickles and Torture

We follow the two kids into the kitchen where my mother and Hazelle are plating up dinner for each of the children. Prim carries a plate for herself and a plate for Posy into the living room, placing them on the threadbare rug next to the equally threadbare couch. There’s only six chairs which fit around the kitchen table and two of them have been dragged into the living room at some point, presumably in preparation for when we must all gather around the television.

Vick stands at the edge of the table waiting for his plate next, but Rory nudges him out of the way muttering something about being “older and more important”. Vick automatically turns to Gale at this injustice, but Gale has already seen this transaction and drags Rory back by the collar of his shirt. Vick smirks and sticks his tongue out at his slightly older brother, taking his plate and going to sit with our sisters. For a second I think Rory is going to fight with Gale as he squares up his narrow shoulders and pulls hard out of Gale’s grasp, and I am overwhelmed with a sudden fear that he will voice the knowledge that Gale and I were ‘cuddling’. However, my fears are quashed when Gale gives him a warning look and Rory turns away without another word, accepting the authority of his older brother.

Once Rory has taken his dinner and left the room, Gale’s face softens and he sighs, sitting down at the kitchen table. “He’s getting worse, that kid.” He says to no one in particular.

Hazelle places a plate of food in front of her eldest and pats him on the shoulder. “He’s just getting older. You know, getting to _that_ age.” She smiles and kisses Gale on the cheek.

“I was never like that at his age.” Gale comments, watching his mother place three plates at the other three spots on the table.

Hazelle doesn’t reply and I look back at Gale. He looks up and our eyes meet briefly, but he quickly looks back down at his plate of food. I grip the back of the chair opposite him with white knuckles and think about his own fingers, causing me to blush. The window at the other end of the room, looking out onto the Seam, suddenly becomes very interesting as I wait for my blush to pass.

“Katniss” my mother says, and I jump, somehow thinking she may have heard my less than pure thoughts of my best friend, but she only nods towards the chair I’m gripping and I realise I’m the last to take my seat. I sit down, keeping my eyes trained on my plate.

We begin eating. For a while none of us speak as we attempt to rid ourselves of the hollow emptiness a day of unwanted fasting has caused. We focus on our own plate of rabbit stew and small pile of canned vegetables. I think of our morning yesterday when Gale and I caught this very rabbit and traded a few more in the hob for the greens. Thinking of days spent hunting with Gale is my own way of getting myself to slow down and savour my last meal of the day. When I glance sideways at my mother, I can see she too is attempting to slow herself, putting her fork down on the table between each bite. It’s a common occurrence in the Seam, silence during a meal; too hungry to place the priority of conversation over the ingestion of food.

I jump slightly when I feel something brush against my leg. My hunter’s senses cause me to overreact slightly, earning me a cautious look from my mother.

“Sorry.” I mumble, and she goes back to eating, shaking her head slightly.

I feel the pressure on my calf again and look up to see Gale looking at me through thick eyelashes. He runs his foot up my calf until he reaches the back of my knee, then stops and looks away. I can’t decipher, what, if anything, that gesture was meant to mean, and after a few moments deliberating and coming to no conclusion, I go on eating.

Eventually I hear the children in the other room laughing and Posy squealing, an indication that they have finished their food. I look down at my own plate where I have only a few greens left. I make the conscious decision to remember this last mouthful of food for the day, when Gale speaks.

“I was never like that at his age.” He says.

Chewing the canned greens, I glance up at him. Gale is looking at his mother, waiting for her to comment and it takes me a minute to process what on earth he’s talking about. It occurs to me that his mind is still on Rory’s behaviour from before we began eating. Gale is Rory’s brother, he shouldn’t have to worry about the twelve year olds behaviour, but then again, I am Prim’s sister and I have practically raised her for a fair portion of her life. We have very similar lives Gale and I.

Hazelle shrugs, pushing her empty plate towards the middle of the table. “No you weren’t like that a his age.” She smiles sadly at him and her eyes flick to my mother then to me. Her eyes linger on me for a second before going back to settle on Gale. “You never got the chance to be like that.”

I look down at my hands in my lap, feeling like by watching I am somehow intruding on a personal moment between Hazelle and her eldest son. When I look back up, Hazelle is piling the plates into the centre of the table and my mother is putting the cutlery into the sink. I feel as though I should offer to do the dishes, given that Hazelle is essentially saving me from having to spend the next two days in the square, but Gale volunteers us both to check on the kids and so I follow him blindly into the living room.

When we enter, Rory is being pinned to the ground by Vick and Prim, and Posy is tickling him fiercely under the arms. I can’t help but let out a snort of amusement at his predicament. Gale seems to have the same opinion, as he too, smirks at the picture.

“Gale” Rory pants between bouts of pained laughter “Gale!” he squeals girlishly, causing myself and Gale to fall into our own fits of giggles. “Get them off!” Rory growls and comes dangerously close to hitting his younger sister with his flailing arms.

At this, Gale intervenes. I am too consumed with hysterics to help at all and just flop into a chair and attempt to regain some composure.

“Right guys” Gale says, walking over to the pile of children. He attempts to sound stern but I can still hear the laughter in his voice. “Leave him alone, he’s outnumbered. It’s not a fair fight.”

Posy, Vick and Prim obey and climb off Rory, who remains horizontal on the floor, recovering from the exhaustion of being tickled so violently. Having somewhat recovered from my hysterics, I’m about to suggest we all play a less combative game, but before I can even open my mouth, Gale has hoisted Rory up by his ankles.

“What are you-?” Rory begins to ask as Gale holds him upside down at arms length. He walks over to where I’m sitting, and the sheer image of Rory’s rage, now upside down, begins to induce more laughter.

“You see” Gale says casually, holding his younger brother right in front of me. “Katniss is sixteen. And I am- how old kids?” Gale looks over to where Prim, Vick and Posy are observing with grins plastered on their faces.

Posy’s skinny arm flies into the air as if she were answering a question at school.

“Yes Posy?” Gale prompts.

“Eighteen!” she answers excitedly.

“Correct! And how old is _Rory_?” Gale asks, still holding his brother by the ankles, demonstrating some impressive strength.

I copy Posy, putting my own hand in the air.

“Katniss?” Gale grins.

“I do believe,” I say dramatically and Prim and Posy giggle, “that young Rory here, is twelve.”

“Correct Katniss. And _I_ do believe that means that we are older. Does it not?”

I nod in agreement.

“And therefore” Gale pauses, hoisting Rory’s ankles over his shoulders so that his back lays flat on Gale’s chest and his face is level with mine, “if we are older, then _we_ are more important.”

I see a flash of recognition in Rory’s expression as he recalls his own words to his younger brother. Somewhere in that expression I’m sure that I can see some regret.

“If you would do the honours, Katniss.” Gale says, and with an unspoken instruction I begin to tickle Rory under his arms.

He thrashes about, but Gale is much stronger, and holding him upside down, has great advantage over his brother so I continue to torture the poor twelve year old.

Once Gale seems to think Rory has learned his lesson, or that keeping him upside down any longer might be dangerous (Rory’s face becoming redder by the second), he lowers him down onto the floor.

“And that, children” Gale declares dramatically “is why you are _always_ kind to everyone, because you never know who might have a huge older brother.”

Rory stands and straightens out his clothes with a glare to Gale and I.

“Come on, guys”, he says to the other kids “let’s go play outside.” They follow him out of the back door into the small yard.

“Do _not_ leave the back yard.” I call after them and Prim gives me a lazy mock salute in acknowledgement before closing the door behind her. I smile at her action and look up at Gale to find he mirrors my expression.

All at once I suddenly become aware that we are again alone in the same room. It’s a strange feeling to be so awkward around Gale because it’s never really been an issue before. The silence between us has always been a comfortable refuge but right now it feels palatable. We are both waiting for the other to speak.

“We should-.”

“So what do-?”

We both say simultaneously before falling silent again. Gale looks down at me.

“You go.” He says, his cheeks an unfamiliar tinge of pink.

“Er, I was just going to say maybe we should tidy the room.” I stutter out, looking away from Gale at the kids’ empty plates, which litter the floor. Gale says nothing and I reluctantly look back up at him, willing my own cheeks to remain what I hope is their normal olive.

His blush is gone and his grin has taken on a devilish charm. Any resolve I had is now gone and I can feel the heat rising in my face. He still says nothing and I awkwardly let a high-pitched “What?” fall from my lips.

Gale’s eyes glint and he laces his hands together, stretching them high above his head. He lets out a groan of satisfaction and I feel my face darken even more as my eyes are drawn to the bare skin and dark scattered hairs, which are revealed as his t-shirt rises. I can see the indentations of his stomach muscles, leading to somewhere obscured by the hem of his underwear, peeking above his pants. The sight makes my mouth go dry.

“I’m just” he lowers his arms and I follow the hem of his shirt as it closes the gap between his pants “so tired!” he fakes a yawn and stretches his arms out wide.

I smile at his actions. A proper, genuine smile because his ridiculousness amuses me and I know it’s not often that we really get the opportunity to act this stupid anymore, and not care. “Maybe you should sit down.” I suggest and he steps closer to me, invading my personal bubble. Not that I mind.

“Oh” he says quietly, crouching down so that our faces are level and I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips, “I intend to.”

I don’t even get a second to consider what that could possibly mean before he has turned around and splayed himself across my lap, crushing me under his weight.

“Gale!” I half yell, half laugh. “Get off!”

He ignores me and instead lifts his feet off the ground so that his whole body is balanced on top of mine. My legs begin to feel numb as he cuts off the circulation and my attempts at kicking him become inadequate.

“Gale!” I shout again, attempting to push him off me but completely failing.

“You’re right, Katniss.” He calls over my yells, “Sitting down is just what I needed.” He shifts his weight so that I can barely breathe from the combination of laughter and force on my chest, but I manage a few more yells, though they come out muffled by his back against my face.

Still gasping from laughter, I punch his back, not even making a difference. A sudden thought occurs to me inspired by my treatment of Rory, and I begin tickling Gale’s sides. He gasps and squirms on my lap, causing me more pain than anything, but his squeals more than make up for the pain. Gale slides down my lap and onto the floor at my feet but I don’t stop my onslaught.

Tears blur my view of him and my chest burns as my hysterics overtake and I’m sure I’m hyperventilating. My cheeks ache from the grin, which never leaves my face. I push his shirt up higher so I can tickle even more of his torso without the protection of the thin layer of navy fabric.

“St-stop! Katnisssssss!” Gale yells, attempting to claw himself away from me, flipping onto his stomach.

I take advantage of his weakness caused by the tickling and flip back him over, stopping his route across the living room floor. Once I have him on his back, I climb over him so that I’m siting with my legs on either side of his torso, my own weight pinning his hips to the ground.

I stop tickling Gale to compose myself more than anything else, and he looks up at me with an expression of faux- hurt. “What did I _ever_ do to you, Katniss Everdeen?” he says in the most pathetic voice he can muster.

Gale looks up at me with puppy-eyes. He’s completely at my mercy and something deep within me stirs. I like that I am the only one who cam dominate Gale in this way, because I may be inexperienced but I’m certainly not naive. I am very aware that I am essentially straddling my best friend, and should I want to, I could really have him begging for mercy.

When I fail to reply to his question, Gale raises his brows at me. I rest my hands on his exposed sides, rubbing circles with my thumbs, where minutes ago I had been torturing him, soothing the pink-tinged skin. Gale’s acting has stopped, as has my own. He places his hands on my forearms, stroking up and down, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake.

“Hmm?” he prompts, eyes dark, “What did I ever do to you, Catnip?” Gale reaches up and tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear, letting his fingers linger on my face. He runs his thumb down my cheekbone to the curve of my lips. I take a sharp inhalation of breath when he strokes my bottom lip. Gale lets his thumb take residence against my lips; our eyes stay connected. I pout, and press my lips harder to his thumb in a kiss. “Catnip?”

“I was going to ask if you could clean up the kids’ plates but I can see that you’re already busy.” Hazelle’s voice from behind me, hits me like a ton of bricks, and I practically throw myself off Gale as he sits up beneath me.

The whole movement is so rushed and uncoordinated that Gale ends up head-butting me in the shoulder and I awkwardly roll off him onto the floor. I shuffle next to Gale so we’re both sitting hip-to-hip, facing Hazelle, like two kids who have just been caught doing something they certainly shouldn’t be. I suppose that’s exactly what we are.

I don’t dare look at Gale’s mother, so instead I train my eyes on him. If I weren’t so embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising position, I would think Gale’s expression funny, as it is, I can completely relate to his sheer look of horror and mortification.

“We were…” he trails off, one of the few times I have _ever_ known Gale to be speechless.

“Yes?” Hazelle prompts and I gather up enough courage to steal a glance at her. She watches us both with amusement.

“We were…playing.” I find myself saying, and I can feel Gale’s eyes on me. I look over at him and he stares at me incredulously, mouth gaping open. It’s at this point that I realise my attempt to convey our actions as innocent has completely backfired. “A game…you know…like tickling…” I stutter and Gale continues to stare. “I…er..”

“Katniss” he says with desperation, “stop. Please, stop.”

“What I mean is-.” I try to correct myself.

“Katniss” Gale begs “just shut _up._ ”

I close my mouth and go back to looking at the floor. My ears feel hot and I feel Gale’s hand coming to rub my back inconspicuously. Whether this is for my benefit or his, I cannot say, but it feels nice and I lean into his hand, forgetting the presence for his mother for a brief second. It seems Gale has too, because Hazelle feels the need to clear her throat to get our attention.

“Gale, Katniss.” She says, and our heads whip up. “Just clear the plates. We’ll all be out back if you need us.”

We nod and begin to stand as Hazelle turns to leave. Gale has already begun to pick up the plates and cutlery at the other side of the room, but I hear Hazelle say, presumably to my mother, “I doubt they’ll need any of us.”

I can’t say I disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews always appreciated. Thanks for reading. :))  
> xxx


	3. Sleeping Arrangements

We spend the next twenty minutes clearing up in silence. Gale takes over washing the plates in the kitchen and I remain in the living room, tidying and then pointlessly re-tidying everything I can. The room is sparse of furniture leaving me practically nothing to occupy myself with. It’s when I begin sorting the odd few used books and toys Hazelle and the kids have collected over the years, into the cardboard box in alphabetical order, that I realise I’m just wasting time and purposely avoiding Gale. I assume he is doing the same thing; it does not take twenty minutes to clean four plates and four sets of cutlery.

I push the box of ‘toys’ into the corner of the room, kick off my shoes and flop down onto the sofa, dislodging the cushions, which I’ve just previously organised. Gale is still in the kitchen. I have no idea what he’s doing in there, but I can hear the clang of cutlery and the scrape of plates, and I wonder if he too, is doing some pointless reorganisation to avoid me. The thought makes me feel uneasy. We never avoid each other, and if we both plan to keep this up for a while, the next two days are going to be difficult. Gale’s house is only so big; we can’t exactly hide from each other forever.

“Sorry.”

I look over at the door to the kitchen, where Gale stands looking sheepish, a hand rubbing the back of his head.

“Sorry.” He says again, this time sure I’m listening.

My eyebrows knit together and I push myself higher on the sofa so that I’m sitting on my legs to get a better view. “Why are you sorry?” I ask, because I can’t really think why he should be.

Apparently he can’t either, because he looks at me with a panicked expression and slowly says, “I don’t know.”

I laugh at him, and this must indicate that I am not mad with him, because Gale lets his panic melt into a small smile. “I don’t think you’re the one who needs to be sorry.” I explain. He comes and sits next to me on the couch. “I’m the one who tackled you and got us into that…” I pause, searching for the right word, “…predicament.”

Gale kicks off his shoes and lifts his long legs up onto the sofa, resting his feet on my lap. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t have _had_ to tackle me if I hadn’t sat on you.” He counters and I nod.

“Yeah you’re right.” I say and Gale’s face falls. “This is all _your_ fault.” His panic has returned. I pat his legs. “Apology accepted.”

Gale lets out a sigh of relief and lets his head fall back. “I thought you were going to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.” I assure him.

He looks over at me poignantly. “Yes, but I _thought_ you were going to be. I can’t stand the thought of you being angry with me.”

I smile and play with the ripped hem of his pants, pulling lightly at the strands of fabric, tattered by years of getting caught on brambles in the woods. “I could never stay mad at you, Gale.” I say and look over at him. He smiles back and my sweet smile morphs into a cheeky grin. “Actually, I definitely _could_ stay mad at you. If I had something to be mad about, I could totally outlast you in a battle of ‘who can stay angry the longest?’”

Gale shoves one of his feet in my face. “I don’t doubt it, Catnip.” He laughs, as I push his foot away with a glare in his direction.

There’s a knock at the back door and we both look towards the dusty window to the side of it. Vick and Rory have their faces pressed against the glass and are making stupid faces at Gale and I, much the amusement of Prim and Posy who I can hear laughing hysterically from another part of the yard. Gale launches one of the cushions from behind his back at the window, but it doesn’t even make his brothers flinch as it lifelessly falls to the floor.

“Boys!” I hear Hazelle shout, and Vick and Rory both whip around, their backs obscuring our view to the yard.

The back door opens and my mother walks in, Prim and Posy following with smirks on their faces. I can hear Hazelle talking sternly to her sons, although I can’t make out any real words. Prim skips over to where I am sitting, Gale’s legs still draped over me. Posy follows and sits herself down on the floor next to Prim’s feet.

“Vick and Rory are getting told off.” Prim smiles, looking from me to Gale.

“Well try not to look _to_ happy about it.” I say, and she looks away sheepishly.

“Go on, both of you.” Hazelle says, pushing the two boys in the house, ahead of her. Rory and Vick both look at the floor but I can see their faces are filthy from the coal dust on the windows, their clothes look just as dirty too. “Now go and get cleaned up, get changed and ready for bed.” Their mother orders, and both boys look up to her with horror.

“Bed?!” Rory asks disbelievingly.

“But it’s only seven o’clock!” Vick adds.

“I am aware of the time.” She says to her sons. “Now go.”

They march off to the bathroom, pushing each other and muttering insults as they go. Gale watches them with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“And you”, Hazelle says slightly louder. Gale looks up and his face falls as he realises she is talking to him.

“What did _I_ do?” he asks.

Hazelle picks up the cushion from the floor next to the window and throws it in Gale’s direction. It nearly strikes me and I have to duck to avoid being hit, but Gale leans forward and catches it, cockily stuffing it behind his head with a cheeky grin to his mother.

Hazelle rolls her eyes at him and walks towards the kitchen, smacking the back of his head playfully as she passes. “No throwing cushions in the house.” She sighs and Gale mutters an apology. My mother goes to follow Hazelle but is stopped in her tracks when Hazelle turns back to Gale with a second thought. “No throwing cushions _outside_ either.”

“Yes, mother dearest.” He calls in a singsong voice, causing Hazelle and my mother to grin and shake their heads at him.

Once our mothers are in the kitchen and only the girls, Gale, and I are in the living room, Prim sits down on the arm of the sofa next to me. “So, have you decided where you’re going to sleep, then?” she asks, looking at Gale and I.

I look towards Gale, thankful that he looks just as puzzled as I am feeling. “Well, I was thinking of sleeping in my _bed_. You know, like I usually do.” He answers.

Prim shakes her head. “Oh I forgot, you wouldn’t have been able to hear us.” She says.

“Hear what?” I ask, no less confused than I was before.

“Well, when we were in the yard, Hazelle and Mom decided where everyone is going to sleep tonight.” She declares.

“What’s wrong with where we usually sleep when we stay here?” Prim looks somewhat horrified at my question. “What?”

“Katniss, I’m _twelve_ now.” Prim says and I look at Gale hoping he might have an explanation. He shrugs.

“And?” I dare to ask, and Prim stands up and crosses her arms.

“I can’t sleep in the same room as a”, she whispers the final word, “ _boy_.”

The look on her face tells me that I should have known this was obvious, so I just nod. “Right.” I say and Prim, satisfied, sits back down on the arm of the couch.

I think for a moment and attempt to get my head around how many beds for how many people we have, now that Prim has decided she cannot share a room with Rory or Vick. In past years, the eight of us have slept in the practically the same way and that always worked out fine, if a bit cramped.

Rory and Vick’s two single mattresses in their room slept four of us; Rory and Vick sharing one, and Prim and I, the other. Hazelle and Posy’s double bed was occupied by my mother, Hazelle and Posy. And Gale slept on the mattress in his own room. The room that had many years ago been a room for coal storage, but that Gale and his father had reinforced and made large enough for a single mattress to fit in. Not long after finishing it both of our fathers had died in the mine explosion.

I shudder at the thought and think back to the sleeping arrangements. Something occurs to me and I address Prim. “How come you can’t share with the boys now you’re twelve, but I’ve shared with them just as much as you?”

Prim looks at me again as if the answer to this were obvious. “Because you’re not _twelve_.” She says. I look over to Gale, who again helps by shrugging. I have no idea why this matters so much to Prim, perhaps this is something that is discussed amongst friends at school and I’ve just been completely oblivious. Either way, I’m more concerned about where I am going to sleep tonight.

“So where _is_ everyone sleeping?” I ask and it is Posy who answers me.

She jumps up from her position on the floor and starts counting off everyone on her fingers. “Vick and Rory sleep in their room. Your mommy and my mommy sleep in my room. And me and Prim” Posy skips over to Prim and hugs her legs, “sleep in Gale’s room!”

“And I get no say in this?” Gale asks amusedly.

“No.” Hazelle pipes up from behind us. I crane my neck around to look at her standing at the doorway to the kitchen with my mother. “Great plan” Gale continues, “but where are Katniss and I going to sleep?”

“You choose.” My mother says, leaning on the doorframe. “You’ll probably have to sleep on the floor somewhere, but it’s your choice.”

“Gee, thanks.” I say a bit too sarcastically and my mother shoots me a look.

Hazelle smiles, undeterred by my sarcasm. “Well, there’s enough room for one of you in the boys room and one of you in my room.” Gale and I glance at each other with equal expressions of distaste. Both of the those floors are void of any rugs or even any type of indoor surface, only concrete. “ _Or_ ” Hazelle says and both of us look back to her, “you can both sleep in here. One on the couch, one of the floor.”

I look to Gale and it takes us less than a second to have a silent discussion. “Here.” Both of us answer, and Hazelle looks to my mother.

“Told you.” She mutters and my mother giggles.

“What was that?” I ask, sitting up straighter.

They both answer “Nothing” far too fast for my liking.

“Prim” Hazelle says, and I can tell by her tone she’s making an effort to change the subject, “could you take Posy into my room and get her ready for bed.”

Prim nods and holds her hand out to Posy who is pouting at her mother. The four year old folds her arms in defiance. “Please can I stay up longer, momma?” she pleads.

“Once you’re ready for bed you can come back out for a little while.” Hazelle smiles and Posy’s face lights up.

“Come on, Posy. There’s some pyjamas in that pile of new clothes Katniss and I brought over.” At Prim’s words Posy grins and runs ahead of her into the bedroom. Prim follows and closes the door behind her.

“Gale, can you change the sheets in your room?” his mother asks.

“But they’re clean.” He whines and I giggle at his childishness.

Hazelle gives him a look. “For you maybe, but Posy and Prim do not want to sleep in amongst your teenage stench.”

At this I burst out laughing, earning a disapproving look from Gale. I can’t help but laugh at the reference to Gale’s ‘teenage stench’, because after years of spending many hot days out hunting with him in close proximity, I know exactly what that teenage boy stench can entail.

“Come on” I say, smacking his legs lightly to get him to move, “I’ll help you change them.”

We stand and make our way over to Gale’s tiny bedroom. He takes a sheet and a blanket from the pile of laundry at the other side of the living room and follows me. Gale’s bedroom is so small that the door doesn’t actually open fully into the room, once you push it open it only extends about a foot before it hits the edge of the mattress and you have to squeeze through.

I go first, seeing as only one person can really fit through at a time, and take the pile of bedclothes from Gale on the other side. I stumble over his mattress to get to the small area of standing space not occupied by either of the two pieces of the furniture in the room; the mattress and a dresser. He squeezes through next, closing it behind him and walking over his bed and sitting in the middle of it, crossing his legs to take up less room.

Gale pats the space on the mattress next to him.

“We’re meant to be changing the sheets.” I remind him.

“They’re not even dirty.” He repeats his words from earlier.

“But Gale-.”

“So” he interrupts me, “maybe we could at least make sure they need to be changed?” it comes out more as an uncertain question than as a viable suggestion as I sense it was meant to, but the forwardness still takes me by surprise.

I blush violently and turn away from him, putting the sheets on top of his dresser. “Gale, we can’t.” I say quietly, turning back to him. He looks genuinely disappointed and his expression makes me smile.

“What?” he says at my own expression.

“I just, you.” I stutter.

“What about me?”

“You, you just make me smile.” I admit.

Gale grins. “Same.” He pats the bed again and I give in, sitting down next to him, our hips touching.

We scoot back so that we can rest our backs against the wall, and stretch out our legs in front of us. When I look across at Gale, he’s already watching me with stormy eyes. He reaches out tentatively and brushes his fingers over my cheek, making my breath hitch.

“You really do make me smile, Catnip.” Gale smiles and moves his fingers from my cheek to my earlobe, massaging it gently. “You’ve always made me smile. You know that, right?” his eyes plead with me to understand the deeper meaning of his words. Words that just cannot be spoken yet, but perhaps can be understood. And I do understand.

“Yes. I know. And you” I let my hand find Gale’s thigh and begin rubbing it gently, “you make me smile every day.”

Gale leans forward, his hand falling from my ear to wrap around my waist, gently pulling me closer. His face is so close to mine that our noses bump. “Every day?” he whispers.

I nod and our noses touch again. “Every” I tilt my head even closer, “single” and bring my hand up to his face, cupping his jaw, “day.” With a deep breath and more certainty than I have ever possessed in my entire life, I push my lips against Gale’s in a lingering kiss.

The arm around my waist tightens and our eyes fall closed. When it ends, Gale rests his forehead against mine. I dare to open my eyes but his remain closed. We don’t say anything, just bask in the aftermath of a perfect moment and allow the magnitude of the moment seep in.

I have just kissed Gale. My best friend. My hunting partner. Gale. I have just kissed him.

And he kissed me back.

A small voice somewhere in my peripheral consciousness tells me that just earlier today Gale and I did some things which should dull the vastness of this kiss, but despite our earlier actions, this seems much more significant. The lust we shared in the moment on Hazelle’s bed was just that- lust; hormones and excitement and probably had something to do with unwanted thoughts of the Games and the next couple of days. This is different.

This kiss, it wasn’t down to lust. I kissed Gale because he makes me smile, and he kissed me back for the same reason.

“Catnip?” Gale asks. He has opened his eyes and it watching me from under black lashes.

“Mmm?” is all I can manage at the moment.

One hand still on my waist, Gale reaches the other up to hook around my neck and pull me in for another kiss. It’s different to the first. We’re less hesitant, both of us now confident we reflect the other’s desires. Gale’s lips move beneath mine and he pushes the fingers at my neck into my braid from underneath.

I try to move closer to Gale, but the way we are sitting, hip-to-hip, is making it very difficult. Reluctantly, I break the kiss. Gale looks at me with silent question and I answer him by hooking a leg over his, and sitting on his lap. Our position replicates that of the predicament Hazelle caught us in earlier, but this position is for so much more than tickling.

We both smile at this new position. Gale pulls me further up his lap so our chests press together. His hands rest on either side of my torso, pushing the fabric of my t-shirt up so that they can rest skin-to-skin. I run a hand through Gale’s hair, letting it land and take residence on the back of his neck.

I lean in for another kiss but stop, millimetres from Gale’s lips, much to his dismay. He searches my eyes for answers, running his hands up under my top, fingers grazing my bare back.

“What’re you thinking?” he asks and his lips brush mine lightly as he speaks.

“Honestly?” I ask.

“The truth.” Gale clarifies, and I smirk. “What?”

“You’re not going to like it.” I warn, my smirk still firmly in place.

“Try me.”

I push forward as seductively as I can manage (though the lack of practice means it comes off a bit awkward, but Gale doesn’t seem to mind) and press my mouth to Gale’s ear. He inhales sharply and I can feel him twitch where I sit.

I whisper in his ear. “We still need to change the sheets.”

When I pull away, Gale is looking at me with an unimpressed expression. “I hate you.” He says, but there’s mirth in his eyes.

He pulls me to him roughly and kisses me hard. I find myself groaning into his mouth as Gale nips my bottom lip. The unexpected noise of my groan makes me feel slightly self-conscious and embarrassed but the feeling is soon forgotten when Gale begins coaxing my mouth open with his tongue. I let him dominate the kiss, reacting to what feels natural and learning as we go.

I gasp when Gale’s tongue enters my mouth fully and he smiles against my lips. Even with my eyes closed I can tell he’s pleased with himself.

We take it slower, experimenting with what feels good, and as the minutes tick by I begin to grow in confidence, letting my hands roam as they did this morning. I keep on hand on the back of Gale’s neck, keeping him as close as possible. The gap between our bodies is practically non-existent and I can clearly feel the effect I am having on Gale, sitting on his lap. With my other hand, I slowly move it across Gale’s hip and in between our hips. As my hand brushes Gale through his pants, the proximity causes me to touch myself too, and I match his moans as our kiss breaks.

I want to replicate the surge of pleasure, which pulsed through me when my fingers met the centre hem of my pants, and selfishly I abandon my first intention to touch Gale and instead begin to rub myself through my jeans. The noise Gale makes when I do, tells me he does not mind my change of course.

“Katniss” he gulps audibly, “do it again.” Gale requests breathlessly.

I open my eyes and look to Gale. His breathing is heavy and he is watching me expectantly. I glance down at my hand resting on my crotch atop my clothes.

“Do you like it when I…?” I flick my eyes down to my hand.

Gale nods and swallows again. “Yeah” he struggles out.

This admission stirs something inside of me and as I press a finger to myself, an even stronger wave of pleasure rides through me and a moan escapes my swollen lips. Gale’s hands continue to roam my back, and as I lean into them slightly, Gale moves one around to the front, caressing my stomach. My muscles jump under his calloused touch.

Touching myself through two layers of fabric becomes too trying and I swiftly unbutton my jeans. I let out a sharp hiss as my fingers come in contact with the bare skin of my lower stomach. Gale moves his hand to cover mine and I look up into his eyes. Together we begin the dissent underneath my waistband, slowly towards my wetness.

A sharp rapping on the bedroom door causes us to rip our hands away from their journey and stare at one another with a panicked dread. We stare at the door, willing it not to open, neither one of us daring to breathe.

“Hurry up, guys!” Prim calls from the other side of the wood. “We want to play a game before we have to go to bed.”

I continue staring at Gale, pleading him silently to speak for both of us. He opens his mouth but it is Posy’s voice I hear.

“Please.” She begs and my heart sinks as the doorknob begins to turn.

“Okay, okay!” Gale calls and the doorknob stops moving. He lets out a small sigh of relief. “We’ll just be a second, give us a minute.”

We sit and listen for any other signs that the kids are still waiting by the door. When light appears at the crack at the bottom of the doorframe, I can tell Prim and Posy have left.

I look at Gale. He’s got a silly smile of relief on his face, which I can’t help but mirror. Falling forward, I let myself rest my head on his chest. Gale draws me close in a hug and kisses the top of my head.

“Right” he says resolutely, “ _now_ we need to change the sheets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews. Thanks for reading.  
> xxx


	4. Doing 'Stuff'

We change the sheets on Gale’s mattress in record speed and bundle up the old ones to take out to Hazelle. I fasten up my pants and straighten my t-shirt in an attempt to make myself look as inconspicuous as possible. I can already tell that the fact that Gale and I have been alone in his bedroom far longer than the time it takes to change his bedding, will not go unnoticed.

Gale stands facing the wall over his dresser where a small mirror hangs from a chain and hook. He’s flattening his hair where my fingers have caused it to stick up at odd angles. The look of sheer concentration on his face that I can see reflected in the mirror, as he attempts to wrangle a particularly stubborn section of hair, makes me smirk. He must sense my amusement because less than a second later, his eyes flick to mine via the mirror.

“You caused this.” He says with mock seriousness, indicating the unruly lock of hair.

“Yep.” I reply, still smirking and popping the ‘p’, crossing my arms over my chest.

Gale manages to flatten the hair and turns to me fully, the seriousness gone and amusement now in it place. “So you’re proud, Miss Everdeen?” he asks, crossing the few feet separating us and snaking his arms around my waist.

I mimic him, moving my arms from my chest up to wrap around his neck. “Oh, I’m proud.” I smile.

He twitches an eyebrow and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Oh _really_ now?” he asks, his breath tickling my ear and making my stomach flip. I nod. “Well, I think you need to look at yourself…because I’m pretty proud too.”

My eyes go wide and I lean back to see Gale’s smug grin. He sidesteps around me and nudges me towards his tiny mirror. I have to go up onto my tiptoes to see myself, the mirror at Gale’s eye line and not mine. My mouth falls open when I see my own reflection. It’s Gale’s turn to smirk.

As much as I have tried to make myself as normal and innocent as possible by straightening out my clothes, my hair in its current state in certainly a dead giveaway to our activities. At the current moment, I may as well have ‘Gale and I have been doing naughty things in his bedroom’ tattooed on my forehead. My braid, which was reasonably messy to begin with after a day of wear, is now almost non-existent. Where Gale has had his fingers entwined in my hair, the braid has come completely loose, and the only thing really holding things together is the hair tie, which is keeping a pathetic dark braid at the bottom of my hair in-check.

I glare at Gale through the mirror but his smirk remains intact. “Might want to fix that, Catnip.” He suggests, and it takes a colossal amount of strength not suggest he goes and fucks himself. Gale seems to sense this and his face softens. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely and comes to stand behind me. I can feel the heat of his chest warming my back through our clothes. My face softens. Gale pushes lightly on my shoulders so I stand flat on the ground. Like this, he is a good head above me.

Gale watches us in the mirror. I’m not tall enough to see anything other than the top of my head and Gale’s face in the reflective glass. He looks up at himself, then back down, past my face. I feel his hands move from my shoulders, down to the end of my braid.

“What are you…?” I begin to ask, but Gale’s fingers quickly undo my hair tie and the question dies somewhere in my throat as he presses the elastic into my palm, and his lips to the back of my neck.

“Keep hold of that, will you?” he whispers into my skin and I grip the elastic for dear life.

Gale runs his fingers through my dark waves, dislodging any of the hair, which had somehow remained in the braid. With each caress of my hair, he presses another open-mouthed kiss to my neck. A groan bubbles from between my lips. Gale presses his lips to the top of my spine, to the ridge of my collarbone, to the join of my shoulder, before finally kissing and nuzzling the sensitive skin behind my ear.

When I let out a helpless sigh of pleasure, Gale places a final kiss under my earlobe and pulls back. I begin to turn to him in disapproval, but he gently holds my head firm towards the mirror.

“Stay still.” He instructs, and I comply.

Gale combs my hair once more with his fingers, pulling the strands that have fallen in front of my face back. He begins carefully tugging at my roots, and only being able to see the concentration on his face and not his actions in the mirror, it takes me a second to work out what he’s doing. As his hands work lower on my head, still tugging lightly, and I suddenly realise he’s re-braiding my hair.

I feel Gale’s fingers ghost over the skin of my neck at the hairline, as he starts braiding down my back. He stops and runs one hand from its position on the centre of my back, up the line he has just plaited, and rests it, palm up, on my shoulder.

“Pass it here.” He says, and I silently place the hair-tie in his hand. Gale fiddles with the end of my hair, twisting the elastic in place. “There.” He strokes the plait and places it over my shoulder.

I look down at the plait resting on my chest and rise up onto my toes to get a better view of my hairstyle. I can only marvel at how well Gale has done in braiding my hair. Turning my head to either side and fingering the braid that lies on my chest, I can’t help but smile. He has done such a good job, that it’s almost too good for it to be believable that I have done it. My hair is certainly neater than it was when I arrived at the house today. Not that I’m complaining.

I drop down onto the flats of my feet and turn to Gale. He looks down at me and brushes his fingers over the side of my face, tugging some of the shorter hair out of the braid so that a few strands fall around the front of my face.

“There’s my Catnip.” He smiles, leaving his fingers resting on my cheek.

“How do you even know how to do that?” I say, curiosity getting the best of me.

“You sound impressed.” Gale grins and begins rubbing my earlobe between his thumb and forefinger, gently.

“I am.” I admit, supressing a moan at the sensation. I swallow past it. “Who taught you?”

“You did.” He states. The confusion must show on my face because Gale chuckles. “Well, you did unintentionally. I’ve watched you braiding your hair for years.”

He’s right, of course. Running around and hunting in the woods for hours, my hair is constantly being re-plaited after being caught on branches and brambles, but I can’t quite understand how simply watching me has awarded him so much skill.

Something occurs to me and a small smile creeps onto my face. “Have you been practicing?” I ask quietly, and the widening of Gale’s eyes is all I need in answer. His hand drops from my ear. “You have! On who? Posy?” Gale doesn’t answer me but his ears have turned red. “Why have you been practicing on your sister?”

He shrugs and scratches the back of his head, looking away from me. “I just…you know…she asked.” He looks back to me and I can tell he’s lying.

“Really?”

Gale looks at me almost guiltily and decides there’s no point in lying. He sighs heavily. “I’ve been practicing braiding on Posy.” He admits, and I reach out and take his hand, squeezing it, encouraging him on despite his obvious discomfort. “I just thought that maybe, one day in the woods, when you take your hair out and you start to braid it, I could swoop in and braid it for you, and you’d be really impressed, and…and…” he trails off his rambles and stares at our feet. “Yeah.” He finishes quietly.

I stare at him disbelievingly. His admission is something so uncharacteristic and unexpected, that it takes me a moment to recover. I tug at the hand still laced with mine to get Gale to look at me. His ears are still red when he looks up.

“You”, I begin, shaking my head in disbelief, “are ridiculous.”

Gale’s expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t look away from me.

“I mean, completely, and utterly, ridiculous.” I continue. “You really do make me smile.” I grin, and his expression lights up. I reach up and kiss his lips lightly. Gale smiles at me properly and kisses me again, rubbing circles on my hand. “Come on, or the kids will come looking for us.”

Gale nods and lets go of my hand. He picks up the bundle of bedclothes off his dresser and we leave his bedroom one at a time, weaving through the narrow gap in the door. I am through but Gale has barely closed the bedroom door when I am ambushed by Posy, who throws herself into my arms. I pick her up and rest her weight on my hip to get a more secure hold. She wraps her skinny arms around my neck. Despite being four, a life of poverty has left Posy much smaller than the merchant kids of her age, and she’s featherweight in my arms.

“Katniss, you said you were going to be a minute and it’s been _way_ more than that.” Posy pouts.

I feel a surge of guilt at the little girl’s expression, despite the fact that I am very aware she is playing me and milking the situation for all it’s worth. “I know”, I pout back at her, sticking my lower lip out exaggeratingly, “I’m sorry, but it was all your big brother’s fault.” I turn to Gale and he feigns an offended expression.

“It was _your_ fault!” Posy accuses, one arm leaving my neck to point at Gale.

He grins at her menacingly, drops the sheets, and lifts her pointed hand higher. “Ooh, you caught me, Pose”, she giggles as Gale lifts her arm even higher.

“Katniss!” she squeals, anticipating her eldest brother’s next move and attempting to pull back, but Gale keeps a firm hold and begins tickling her armpit. “Stop…Gale…Kat” she laughs, and I have to tighten my grip on her to stop her falling as she squirms in my arms.

Somewhere behind me I can hear Prim giggling. When Posy’s laughs become breathless pants, Gale stops his attack and lets her recover. She puts her arm back around my neck at a slightly awkward angle and I smile as I realise Posy is trying to protect her armpit from more tickles.

“It’s still your fault.” She smiles, looking at Gale as he retrieves the dropped linens.

Gale stands and cocks his head towards me. “She’s to blame too.” He remarks casually and Posy scrunches up her face in slight confusion as he walks across the room to deposit the bedclothes in his mother’s washing basket.

“What were you even doing?” Prim asks and I turn to look at her. She’s perched on the back of the sofa, looking from myself to Gale and back again, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah”, Posy pipes up and adjusts herself so that her face is directly in front of mine, “what _were_ you doing?”

My mouth falls open but words fail me. I’m used to this feeling of, not really speechlessness, just, literally not having the words, but now the feeling is also tainted with a thick layer of panic and mortification. I look to Prim, but she is looking at Gale who is unnecessarily folding the sheets he’s putting into the washing basket. When both of us fail to answer, Posy gets frustrated and takes my face in her hands so I can’t look away from her.

“What were you doing, Kat?” she asks me directly, and I begin rifling through excuses in my head before Gale jumps in.

“Stuff.” He says, turning to look at us all.

Posy looks confused again, Prim raises her brows in amusement I just stare at him blankly.

“Oh, _really_!” Prim smirks, looking over to me, her eyebrows getting even higher.

I attempt to ignore Prim watching me and instead look over at Gale. “In what universe was _that_ a good answer?” I ask him and he has the decency to look sheepish.

Gale seems to get over this quickly enough though. “Hey,” he defends, “you aren’t exactly ‘Queen of good answers’ yourself.” He looks at me poignantly and I know he’s referring to our conversation with Hazelle earlier after our tickling incident. I roll my eyes and he smiles, recognising when he’s forgiven.

“ _So_ ”, Prim says, swinging her legs on the back of the couch, a glint in her eye. She looks at Gale and smirks and my face falls. “What _kind_ of ‘stuff’ were you doing?” she drags out each syllable until she’s practically signing the question.

I put Posy down on the ground and walk over to my little sister, stepping in between her and Gale. Despite my attempt to look as threatening as possible, her smirk doesn’t waver.

“Nothing that concerns you, Little Duck.” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

Prim looks over my shoulder at Gale; I can see in her expression she’s debating whether to push the subject any further. She open’s her mouth to make another comment, but is cut off by Posy.

“Katniss, will you read this to me?” Posy asks, popping her head up behind Prim. Having lost interest in the conversation, which was beyond her, she has instead chosen a book from the cardboard box in the corner of the living room. I silently thank Posy for her impeccable timing.

I look over Prim to the younger little girl. “Of course I will, Pose.” I say, and as I make my way around the sofa to sit on it, I catch a glimpse of Prim, looking genuinely disappointed at this interruption.

Sitting on the couch, I lift Posy up onto my lap. She passes me the tattered storybook and leans back on my chest. Gale comes to sit next to us, leaving a small gap.

He pokes Prim in the back lightly to get her attention. When she looks around at him he smiles. “You joining us?” he asks, nodding at the space he’s left between us.

Prim seems to consider this offer for a second, but smiles and hops over the couch, landing in the space. Posy giggles as we jump slightly at the small intrusion of Prim’s weight.

“Will you tell me later?” Prim asks both Gale and I, looking between the two of us.

“Probably not.” I say honestly, and she sighs in defeat, settling down between Posy and I, and Gale.

The story is one both kids have heard at least fifty times without any exaggeration, because I _know_ I have easily read it to them that many times. There are only four books in the box, and this is the only one that includes a Princess, making it a favourite of theirs. I’m careful turning the pages and showing the pictures as the spine has been repaired more times than I can remember and they’re at risk of falling out at any moment. In fact, some of the pages have fallen out, long before Hazelle acquired the book for her own children, so every so often I have to make up a section of the story to keep it making sense. It’s better that way anyway, it means each time the story is read, it’s a little bit different.

When I finish reading, and the Princess is happily married to the Prince, Posy is a dead weight on my knee, one hand wrapped around the end of my braid where she had been playing with it. Just like her brother, apparently, loves playing with my hair. Her slow, deep breathing, tells me that the four year old is out cold. Prim, it appears, is not far behind. Her legs are pulled up, knees resting against my thighs, but her back leans against Gale’s side, her head drooping on his shoulder. His arm lies on the back of the sofa, his fingers lightly stroking my neck.

“I liked that story.” Prim says quietly. I look over at her and don’t see the twelve year old who insisted she was too old to share a room with the boys, but instead see my baby sister who for a few years I brought up practically singlehandedly. She yawns and Posy shifts slightly in her sleep, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of an unfamiliar feeling. Perhaps for the first time in five years, outside of the woods, I feel completely content. I’m happy. I make the conscious decision to remember this moment for the rest of my life if I am able to.

Posy’s weight on my lap and chest, the warmth of Prim’s legs against my own, and the feeling of Gale’s fingers drawing patterns on my neck, it’s nice. We all sit quietly, Prim looking too tired to extend any conversation, and Gale and I tend to enjoy the quiet over the conversation anyway. I can hear our mothers’ dull murmuring of conversation coming from the kitchen. There’s a thud and a giggle from Vick and Rory’s room, showing that despite being sent to bed well over an hour and a half ago, they’re both still awake. I smile.

The murmurings coming from the kitchen gradually get louder and clearer until I can hear exactly what Hazelle and my mother are saying, and they emerge from the room, mugs of something hot in their hands. Gale twists around best he can with Prim still using his side as a pillow, and I crane my neck towards the doorway, careful not to move too much and risk waking Posy.

“Looks like it might be bedtime.” Hazelle smiles, putting her mug down on a shelf, and walking over to where I sit with Posy on my lap. The book still rests in one of my hands and she takes it from me, taking a moment to look at it fondly, and deposits it back in the box. “You know” she unwraps Posy’s fingers from my braid gently; “whenever I offer to read her that book she tells me ‘only Katniss is allowed to read that one’”.

I blush slightly and feel a surge of love towards the little girl on my lap. This is the first time I’ve ever been told this. I look towards Gale who just answers me with an affirmative nod of his head and squeezes my neck lightly. Suddenly aware his hands still reside on my skin with an audience of our parents, my blush grows.

“Yes” Hazelle says quietly, reaching down to lift Posy off my lap and smiling at me warmly, “only Katniss can read that book properly.” She lifts Posy gently and adjusts the sleeping child in her arms.

“Come on, Prim.” My mother chimes from behind me. “Bed for you, too.”

I half expect Prim to argue, and ask more about what Gale and I were doing in his room before, but instead she just nods and stands up. My sister leans down to hug Gale. “Night, Gale.” She yawns, “Sorry we have to sleep in your room.” Prim lets go of Gale and shifts to hug me.

“It’s alright.” He smiles, “I don’t mind bunking with Katniss.”

Prim hugs me but looks at Gale when she says, “I’m sure you don’t.” and pulls away from me to stand up straight.

The lack of reaction from our mothers tells me that Prim was careful to keep her voice low enough, and that that comment was purely for the benefit of Gale and myself. She grins sleepily at both of us. “Well, goodnight.” She says and without another word follows my mother into Gale’s room.

Hazelle makes to follow them but pauses at my side. I look up at her questioningly but her expression just leaves me puzzled. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before bringing her hand back to support Posy. “You’re…” she pauses, looking to Gale with the same expression. “…You’re both such good kids. Remember that.” She looks back to me. “Both of you.”

I look to Gale, who looks just as taken aback as I feel. Hazelle sighs and carries Posy into Gale’s room, closing the small gap in the door behind her. When I turn back to Gale, he’s watching me already.

“What was…?” he trails off, eyes glancing towards his bedroom door.

I have no answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reading your reviews! Thank you for being so kind, guys.  
> xxx


	5. Time for Bed

Gale looks at me and shakes his head. We turn away from his bedroom door and settle back down on the couch, Gale at one end and me at the other, our legs tangled somewhere in the middle. He sighs heavily and I rub his shin with my foot.

“She’s been very…” he pauses and looks back towards the bedroom door, searching for the correct word to describe his mother’s behaviour. “…Sentimental, recently.”

“Hmm” I agree, thinking of my own mother’s actions recently. Since the reaping it seems she has been making an extra effort with Prim and I; me especially. I recall a conversation she attempted to initiate the week before, which began with ‘So, is there anyone special at school…’. A conversation, which I _immediately_ ended with a furious blush and a mumbled excuse about homework, before exiling myself in my room for the rest of the night. I push the memory far away and out of sight, and pile memories of being in the woods with Gale atop it.

“It’s just the time of year, I guess.” I say quietly, thinking of the reason our families are staying together in the same house.

“Yeah” Gale muses. He changes the position of our legs and begins running his foot up my thigh. “The games, they make people think,” he looks down at his foot, climbing my leg, “they make people appreciate what they have.” He looks up at me, a small smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. “Family.” Gale’s foot reaches my hip and he pulls it back, beginning to run it back down to my knee. “Friends.”

When his leg starts making its way back towards my hip, I reach out and hold it in place by the ankle. My hand slips under his trousers and I start to rub little circles on the skin above his sock. Family. Friends. He’s right, that the games _do_ make people thankful for the people in their lives. It’s very little positive coming from a barbaric and horrendous situation, but an optimist would say at least it’s something good. I’ve never thought of either of us as optimists, not that we’re pessimists. Realistic, Gale would say. Although realism and pessimism tend to be extremely similar in District 12.

The reaping this year was particularly hard for both of us. For years we’ve only had to worry about ourselves, well, ourselves and each other, but this year Gale and I had two others to occupy our thoughts. Prim and Rory. A sudden surge of relief pours through me at the thought of all of those I care about being safe from the games for another year. Another year. It’s not really all that long, and for all I know we could starve before then, but it’s something to hold on to. At least it’s another year for myself, Prim, and Rory. For Gale…

Gale nudges my hand with his foot and I look up. “What you thinking about, Catnip?” he asks, and I school my expression slightly, back into one I hope resembles anything but worry.

“Just…stuff.” I say, reluctant to concern him with my anxieties.

Gale smiles and raises an eyebrow. I’m suddenly reminded of Prim. “What kind of _stuff_?” he emphasises the last word and I mentally kick myself for my choice in answer.

“Not that _stuff_.” I slap his ankle lightly and he laughs. “Other stuff.”

Gale goes quiet, his expression solemn. “Tell me.”

When I look up at him he’s got a slight crease in his forehead. “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you anymore…” his expression softens. “…in the games.” I clarify and the crease returns. “I don’t know, I just, I always thought when you turned eighteen it would be easier. I’d only have to worry about Prim and Rory-.”

“And yourself.” Gale buts in, and I smile, my eyes flicking down to watch my hand where it still rests on his ankle.

“And myself.” I say quietly. “But, the games was just a once a year thing,” I look back up at him and swallow hard past the lump forming in my throat, “when you start working, I’m going to worry about you every day.”

“Don’t.” he commands and I’m not sure whether he’s asking me to stop worrying or to stop reminding him of where he’s going to have to work six days a week in a month or so.

Either way, I ignore him. “I will worry.” I insist, pushing myself up to sit up straighter.

“Katniss…” Gale warns.

“I _will_. Every day you go down there, I will spend every second praying that you will come up again- _safe_.” I struggle to stop my voice from breaking and have to swallow again to regain my composure.

Gale watches me, his mouth opens as if to say something but he promptly closes it again and looks away towards his bedroom door. He folds his arms across his chest and sighs heavily, still watching his door. “I have to.” He says quietly.

“I know.” My voice comes out as an unintended whisper and I’m not sure if Gale has head me. He tilts his head beck to look at me. “I _know_.” I repeat, slightly louder. “But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No it doesn’t.” Gale clarifies and unfolds his arms.

The sound of his bedroom door opening makes both of us glance around at our emerging mothers. My mother steps into the room first, Hazelle following a second later. Both come over to stand by the sofa, my mother stands behind me and drops something into my lap, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“What’s…?” I begin to ask of the garments in my lap but trail off when I unfold them to reveal a grey t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. A blush rushes up my neck and to my cheeks and I shrink down slightly in an attempt to disguise it, holding the shirt out in front of me to hide my face from Gale’s. “Erm…” I say, avoiding looking at the boxers resting in my lap.

“You didn’t bring anything to wear.” I tip my head back to look at my mother above me and I can feel the blush seceding as confusion etches itself on my face. She rolls her eyes but a ghost of a smile plays on her lips. “For bed.” She clarifies, and realisation dawns on me. “Prim told me there was only clothes for myself and her in the bag.” I have no recollection of any such bag, explaining the absence of clothes for me.

“I forgot.” The statement ends up coming out as more of a question as I internally scold myself for having forgotten such obvious items to pack when staying with other people.

“Yes, you forgot.” My mother shakes her head. “However, Gale has been kind enough to loan you something of his to wear for bed.”

“I have?” Gale asks and I drop the t-shirt to look back at him with his own small pile of clothes in his lap, where I assume Hazelle has deposited them.

Hazelle smacks him lightly on the back of the head. “Yes, you have.”

“I have.” Gale confirms, smirking casually at me. “Your welcome.” He smiles haughtily and I kick him in the ribs with a grin.

“Right then,” Hazelle announces, shaking her head at us and looking over at my mother, “we’ll be off to bed too.”

Gale twists his face and looks up at his mother. “Already? It’s only…” he pauses to look around myself and my mother to see the clock on the wall behind us. He squints, and I know without looking its because the minute hand is long gone from the clock so you have to concentrate hard on where the hour hand is. He settles on “nine, thirty…fifty…ish.”

“Specific.” I quip and he defends himself with a foot in my face, which I attempt to wrestle away from me.

My mother interrupts our joking spat from above me, her hands still rest on my shoulders and I have to resist the urge to roll them off, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “We should all be in bed early tonight.” She remarks. “You never know when we might have to get up.” She doesn’t directly mention the games but we four have lived through enough of these required ‘Open to Mandatory Viewings’ to know she’s referring to being woken up at an ungodly hour to watch the finale of children killing each other.

I let out an involuntary shiver and my mother squeezes my shoulders slightly, but doesn’t let go.

Hazelle is nodding in agreement with my mother. She takes a deep breath and leans down to kiss Gale’s cheek and pat his shoulder. “Night, kids.” She smiles and reaches over to pat my leg just above where Gale’s hand lies. I pretend not to notice how her gaze lingers on her son’s hand’s placement. As innocent as it is, I still feel a blush creeping up my neck. Hazelle give Gale and I one last smile each and retires to her bedroom.

“Don’t stay up too late.” My mother instructs and I give her a half-hearted thumbs up, Gale offering a salute in her direction.

She smiles and shakes her head again before dipping down to kiss the top of my head. I’ve never liked affection from my mother. No, that’s wrong because I _know_ at some point in the past I crawled up onto her lap and begged for cuddles and loved every second. Those memories from before my father died and even from before Prim was born, still exist somewhere in my mind. It’s just that for years they have been shaded by memories of hunger and cold and terror and of a mother who would not answer to either of her children’s cries. Those shaded parts of my memories have caused me to lock her out, give her some sort of insight into how she made me feel for years. It’s being bitter, I suppose, because she’s not like that anymore- but I can’t forget. I can’t forgive her yet.

I brace for the involuntary feeling of repulsion, which has become a standard when my mother attempts to show me any affection, but it never comes. My mother kisses the top of my head and lets her hands slip down slightly from my shoulders to catch me in a kind of half-hug, awkward and uncomfortable at our angle. But I don’t hate it. I don’t feel a wave of overwhelming love or warmth either, but when she goes to pull away, my hand finds one of hers and I hold her there for a fraction longer. It startles me and I pull away a bit more violently than I had intended, though my mother appears unfazed.

“I must be getting sentimental.” I mutter under my breath as she pulls back,

“What was that?” she asks me.

“Night, Mom.” I answer with a genuine smile.

She gives me strange look but doesn’t push it. “Goodnight, Katniss, Gale.” She says and follows Hazelle’s path, leaving us alone in the living room.

I look over to Gale who is watching me quietly from the other end of the sofa. “I guess we should go to bed too.” I say and he nods the affirmative, pushing himself back and attempting to extract his legs from the tangles of my own.

He succeeds and we both swing around, perching on the edge of the seat at opposite ends. Gale balls up the clothes he’s holding and nods towards the kitchen. “I’ll, er…” he trails off and scratches the back of his neck. “…You get changed in here, I’ll use the kitchen.”

Gale wanders into the kitchen and closes the door behind him. I look down at the clothes in my hands, not blushing this time. Quickly, as to avoid any unneeded awkwardness, I strip off my clothes and pull on the t-shirt and boxer shorts of Gale’s over my own underwear. I take off my socks but when stand my feet step off the rug and on to ice-cold wooden floor. The sensation is so unpleasant that I make the effort to only stand on the rug.

The t-shirt is one I’m very familiar with, one I’ve warn _many_ times over the years after getting soaked or muddy in the woods and having to change in Gale’s house. I find myself wondering if either my mother or Hazelle has picked this particular shirt on purpose, or whether it’s just a coincidence. It’s smaller than most of Gale’s other shirts and when he _does_ wear it, it clings to his muscles so much so that his contours of his chest are almost visible through the fabric. I run my thumb and finger over the warn fabric and think that it was perhaps Prim who picked it out.

By the time I’m ready, Gale is still in the kitchen. It’s such an odd situation that I’m really not sure what I should do now. Should I let him know I’m dressed? Tell him he’s okay to come back in? After a few seconds of deliberation I decide to remain in the living room and ignore his presence in the kitchen completely. I busy myself folding my clothes and placing them and my shoes neatly at the edge of the sofa, taking an exceptionally long time to do so.

It’s a bit chilly in Gale’s living room even beyond the cold ground, and I’m really not used to being in such little clothes, even in my own house. I perch on the edge of the couch and look down at my bare legs. Goose bumps have broken out on my skin. Even though Gale is much taller than me and his boxers are really quite too big for me on the waist, the length remains quite short. I stand on the rug and smooth out the greyish fabric, once white but now dull with a thousand washes, and look down to where the end of the legs lie.

The hem falls mid way between my knees and hips and I try to make them cover more of my thighs, but the waistline is already resting on my hips precariously and should I pull them down any further they threaten to fall from my legs completely. I blush again, but I’m not really sure why.

“Catnip?” Gales voice comes from a slight crack between the wall and door.

“Gale?” I answer, silently padding to source of sound. I make it almost to the kitchen door before the carpet stops and I have to prepare myself for the intrusive onslaught of cold on the soles of my feet.

“Erm” he says, and I can practically hear him scratching the back of his head. “Can I come back in?” he asks and I can’t help but smile at him from the other side of the wood.

“I don’t know,” I smirk, whispering into the crack, “ _can_ you?”

Most would say I was just imagining it, but I am sure I can actually _see_ Gale rolling his eyes through the splintered wood. He lets out a heavy sigh and there’s a thud, which rattles the door ever so slightly. I imagine him banging his head against it and rolling his eyes again. I smirk. He does that a lot, rolls his eyes. So do I. I think it could be our specialty, well, besides hunting.

“Katniss?” he whispers with a whine.

“Yes, Gale.” I practically sing.

Gale sighs again. “ _May_ I come back in?”

At his question I swing open the door towards me. He stands at the other side with an amused expression as I bow low and hold the door open for him. “You, may enter.” I say in my best Capitol accent and do an extravagant flourish of my arm to usher him back into his living room.

“Why _thank you_ M’lady!” He too attempts a Capitolite accent and takes my outstretched arm, gently kissing my hand, holding it against his lips long after the initial kiss has subsided.

I let go of the doorknob and it gently swings closed behind Gale. I watch his lips pressed to the back of my hand. Gale sweeps his eyes over me, lingering noticeably on my legs. I feel self-conscious and make a small effort to pull my hand away from him but he holds tight, and I really don’t try that hard, anyway. His lips turn into a pout again, still warming the flesh of my hand and I forget all about my cold feet.

Gale lets my hand fall from his lips, but doesn’t let go, instead using it to pull me closer to him until our bodies are flush. He wraps an arm around my waist, pushing it under the hem of his own shirt to stroke the skin of my back. I can feel myself break out into goose bumps again but I’m no longer cold. Gale’s fingers run down my back and dip ever so slightly below the waistline of the borrowed boxers. I gasp and press closer to him.

I slide one arm around his torso, my other hand still possessively wrapped in Gale’s, hanging slackly at our side. I rest my head on his chest, making a conscious effort to position my ear over his heart. The beat becomes louder than anything else in the house, and my hand at his back fists into the fabric of his t-shirt, never allowing his escape.

“You make me smile, Catnip.” He whispers into my hair, his hand still stroking my bare back, delving below the underwear every so often. His words are for me. He speaks into my hair and I hear every word coming at me from all angles.

“You make me smile.” I hear it through the top of my head as he kisses my scalp.

“You make me laugh.” I hear it through my face as the words reverberate through his chest, through his heartbeat and into me.

“You make me happy.” I hear his whispered words as his nuzzles my ear, and presses his lips to my neck between each one.

I don’t answer him because they're not questions and Gale is not looking for answers, but I reach up and press my lips to his neck, his jaw, his cheeks. I press my lips to Gale’s lips. The kiss is everything I cannot say with words and when we pull away, he brushes his nose against mine and kisses me again.

“I know.” He whispers; our noses still touch.

We stand in the living room, a tangle of limbs in the dark. My legs begin to ache and I have to shift my weight and lean onto Gale to get comfortable. He chuckles so quietly that I don’t even hear it, just feel it deep in his chest.

“Time for bed, Catnip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for all the really positive feedback, guys. I really appreciate it. Regarding updates, sorry they’re not at particularly regular intervals, but I’m back at uni so I tend to write a few chapters at a time when I can, then edit them throughout the week when I get a chance. Don’t worry, another new chapter will be soon. Reviews are always appreciated and any questions I’m happy to answer,  
> Panic. xxx


	6. I Understand

Gale nudges me towards the sofa and I don’t question him, my exhaustion winning out over any chivalry I may possess. Not that he’d ever accept any offer for me to sleep on the floor over him. I know from nights spent in the woods or days crouching in bushes waiting for some passing prey, that he’ll always take the less comfortable option no matter how much I protest.

I arrange a couple of cushions against the threadbare arm of the couch, throwing the other few on the floor for Gale, and lie down on my side, awaiting him. It only takes a second for me to realise without looking that I am alone. The usual feeling of safety and warmth, which generally accompanies Gale’s presence, has gone, leaving me in the living room, alone. I’m suddenly very aware that the only light in the room is the smouldering wood of the fire and that it only illuminates the space on the floor in front of me, leaving my back exposed.

Although I know rationally that I am safe here, and that unlike when we are in the woods, no predators can sneak up on me, I still feel myself becoming anxious about being alone. A dog barks somewhere outside and I jump at the noise. My face flushes in embarrassment at the display of fright, despite the lack of audience and I scold myself for being so soft.

“The games are getting to you, Everdeen.” I mumble to myself, rubbing my arms to soothe the goose bumps.

I’m about to sit up to see where Gale has gone when a wave of blackness is thrown over me from behind, covering my whole body and drenching the world in darkness. Even my small lit area from the illumination of the fire is gone.

For a split second, panic sets in when I cannot see, but the combination of Gale’s low rumble of a laugh and the feeling of the fabric on my fingers reassures me that a blanket has been thrown over my body and I am not in any _actual_ danger. Relief I was unaware I needed, flows through me and a grin tugs at the corners of my mouth.

“Hey!” I whisper-shout at Gale, pulling the cover down from my face and dislodging a few strands of hair from my braid.

He grins at me and begins arranging the cushions on the floor, and the blankets he’s acquired, into a makeshift bed for himself. “Just making sure you don’t get cold, Catnip.”

“Whatever.” I say, shaking my head, watching as he drapes a blanket over various collected mismatched cushions and pillows. The warmth from the blanket calms the goose bumps, but it’s more the smell of Gale emanating from it, which pacifies me the most. I pull it tighter around me and up under my nose, sniffing deeply.

Gale looks at me curiously when I breathe the smell of the blanket in deeply for a second time and I quickly drop his gaze, as well as the blanket, searching for a subject change.

“Where did you get all those?” I ask of the pillows, which certainly did not come from the sofa.

He shrugs, still perfecting his bed. “Vick and Rory. They’ve got beds; I’m sleeping on the floor. I can at least have their pillows.” Gale tucks the blanket’s edges under the pillows and stands up smiling. “There.” He grins, looking to me for approval. I clap gently, more for the gesture than for the noise, and he flops down onto the pile of bedclothes.

Gale lies down and turns on his side, head propped up by his hand, mimicking my position on the couch. We watch each other from our paralleled stations. I’m mostly letting my eyes roam over Gale’s lips and making a conscious effort to not let my eyes dip to the exposed skin of his stomach that I can see in my peripheral vision, but Gale watches me calculatingly. His eyes never leave my face.

I can only stand it for so long before becoming too self-conscious and breaking the silence and his gaze.

“What?” I ask of him quietly, also conscious that we are probably the only ones in the house still awake.

He smirks and shrugs, only one shoulder moving, the other pinned to his bed of mismatched pillows by his weight resting on it. “I don’t even know anymore, Catnip.” He whispers.

I frown at his cryptic answer and his smirk morphs into a full on grin. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Like I said: I don’t even know.” Gale turns onto his back, his head still tipped towards me, eyes trained on mine. He sighs heavily and pulls his gaze from me to look at the ceiling. I follow suit, watching the vague dancing glow of the fire projected on the cracked ceiling.

It’s quiet apart from the occasional crack of the wood in the flames. At a particularly loud crack, I have the thought that we should perhaps put out the fire overnight, but decide that I am enjoying the warmth and comforting glow too much to be concerned about it becoming unsafe. Gale and I will be here all night anyway; it’ll probably burn itself out before morning.

I continue to stare up at the glow licking the discoloured and flaking paint on Gale’s ceiling. He sighs again.

“What’s going on, Cat?” he asks so quietly, a part of me delays any answer in order to analyse whether I have in fact, imagined his words.

I turn on my side and find he has done the same. His eyes are closed, but his brow is furrowed. Gale has his arms wrapped around himself, the blanket he brought in, being used as part of his makeshift mattress. He can’t really be cold lying that close to the fire, but I still find myself untangling my own blanket from my body.

Gale opens his eyes and sees me standing up. “Katniss, what’re you…?” he trails off when I scoot down and lie by his side, draping my cover over both of us. I turn on my side to face him, and he rests a warm hand on my waist under the cover, rubbing patterns on his t-shirt, which I’ve already decided he will not be getting back. “The sofa’s more comfortable, Katniss.” Gale whispers.

“I’d rather be here.” I reply, just as quiet. Gale smiles and moves even closer to me; so close that our noses touch and it’s far too much effort to keep the image of his face in focus, so I close my eyes. The warmth of his breath on my lips assures me he’s there, though I can see him perfectly on the backs of my eyelids. I think I must have every detail of Gale’s face memorised.

I feel him push his lips against mine softly and I sigh at the sensation. I kiss him back and pull his face closer with a hand on the back of his neck. We’re gentle and we don’t rush. There’s no need. We kiss slowly, reverently; making the most of every second alone we have in this insane situation. I let every slight movement of the kiss overtake me. I make a conscious effort to memorise every little nuance. The kiss comes to a natural end, but Gale doesn’t pull back very far and my hand remains on his neck.

For a while Gale doesn’t speak, but his thumb continues trailing over my clothed waist and every so often he bumps my nose with his. I think he’s doing it accidently until he nudges my nose once more and whispers “Cat?” The nickname ghosting over my lips.

“What?” I say, without opening my eyes. My lips brush his as I talk.

“You awake?” he asks and I almost scoff at the stupidity of the question.

I grin, and before Gale gets a chance to realise the obviousness of his interrogative I reply, “No Gale, I’m asleep.” My words drip with sarcasm and I feel Gale pull back slightly. When open my eyes, his face coming into focus and I’m sure I can see a blush rising in his cheeks, though I’m sure he would say it’s the glow from the fire.

“I didn’t mean for that to sound so…” he trails off and I jump in with a grin and a raised brow.

“Stupid?”

“Shut up.” He banters back, but his hand has yet to leave my waist and he’s struggling to supress a grin. “I was just checking to see if you were awake.”

“Well, I am.” I say, shifting to prop my head up on my hand that isn’t around his neck.

Gale smiles at me and his grip around my torso tightens. As he grips my waist, the borrowed t-shirt rises up and Gale encourages it higher before settling his calloused hand on my bare skin. The heat from his hand radiates out across my ribs, comfortingly.

It’s funny, because I’m suddenly struck with the thought that our relationship as it is right now, whatever it is, was _certainly_ not this intimate just twenty four hours ago. Maybe I should be concerned at the speed to which our relationship is progressing but I quash those thoughts quickly. We’ve been friends for years and it’s no one’s business but ours.

I watch Gale open his mouth, take a deep breath, and say nothing, closing it again. I urge him on with my eyes but he looks down and swallows hard. His nostrils flare slightly and his Adam’s apple bobs.

“What is it?” I ask, bringing my hand down from his neck, to rest atop his hand on my waist. Gale’s eyes flit to the ceiling, avoiding mine. “Gale?” I say slightly firmer, though my voice is still barely a whisper. I squeeze his hand and he looks back at me.

“I just…” he starts, before shaking his head and trailing off. Gale sighs. “I’m not good with words, Katniss.” He admits, though this isn’t news to either of us, and I’m hardly any better. When he blinks, his eyes stay closed longer than usual. “I want to be able to tell you everything that’s going on inside my head.”

“You can.” I assure him with another squeeze of his fingers.

“I can’t.” he clamps his eyes closed and furrows his brow. “I’m trying, Cat, I really am. But, there’s just so much crap up here, it’s, it’s hard to get it all organised. It’s all just…” his voice cracks uncharacteristically and my chest constricts. “…just one big shit storm of thoughts, and feelings, and lists, and plans, and I can’t…” Gale opens his eyes as he stops talking and looks directly into mine, begging for me to intervene with his ramblings.

I don’t. I can’t, because my heart is breaking at the sight of my best friend breaking and I know _exactly_ what he’s trying so hard to explain to me because I have been there so many times before and I never thought Gale felt _those_ things. I never wanted him to feel _those_ things, it’s precisely why I’ve never told him when I felt that way, and I can tell that’s why he’s stopped talking because he doesn’t want me to feel _those_ things…but I _know_. I _know_. And it breaks my heart that he knows too.

Gale:

\- tall

\- strong

\- lean

\- handsome

\- a rebel

\- a hunter

\- a son

\- a big brother

\- a best friend

My best friend.

What I see is not my usual Gale. It’s late, it’s dark and he’s trying so hard not to upset me, I can tell. The way he’s looking at me, I mustn’t look like his usual Katniss.

He looks at me with an expression that I can tell he’s trying very hard to disguise for my benefit, but I know him all too well for that. His grey eyes shine with unshed tears threatening to spill over and his jaw is set, determined not to allow any to fall. I can tell he’s getting frustrated with himself because, God knows how long it’s been since he _cried_ , and he can’t work out why his emotions are getting the better of him _now_.

God, I _know_.

I know this. I _know_ these feelings and the frustration and the anger. I _know_ this because I’ve experienced it too many times and I can’t explain it either. I’m screaming at him with my eyes that ‘I understand how you’re feeling and I don’t know why either, and I wish I did.’

“I understand.” I whisper against his mouth.

Gale touches our noses together. “I wish you didn’t have to.” He says.

We look at each other through blurred vision, two broken teenagers acting like adults; pretending to know everything for the sake of everyone else, but crumbling on the inside. Both of us too proud to cry over something we can’t even put our fingers on, because there are more important things to be concerned with:

\- putting food on the table

\- keeping the house warm

\- keeping the kids safe

\- the prospect of the mines

\- the prospect of being reaped

\- the guilt for being worried about yourself when there are kids fighting for their lives in an arena as we speak.

“Catnip?”

It dawns on me, that maybe, I’ve cracked it. I’ve answered my own question. All those things. _They’re_ the reason we are having these seemingly random urges to breakdown. And they’re the exact reason we can’t.

“Cat?”

We just can’t. We need to be strong, Gale and I. We can’t afford to lose it.

“Katniss?” Gale places his hand on my cheek to get my attention. His eyes still glisten, though his jaw has relaxed. His cheeks are flushed. Maybe we’ve already lost it.

“It’s okay.” I whisper. He nods twice. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“Are you talking to me or to yourself?” he smiles, but I’m serious.

“We’re going to be okay.” In my head it comes out as a definite statement but the way Gale pulls me flush against him and nods vigorously into my neck, tells me it may have sounded like more of a question…or a desperate plea.

“Yeah”, he says into my neck and I grip his t-shirt, and nuzzle his chest. “I promise, Katniss. I _promise_ , we’ll be okay.”

“’Promise’ is a big word, Gale.” I mumble and he kisses my neck.

“I know. And I promise.”

Gale presses an open-mouthed kiss to the join between my neck and shoulder and dips his tongue into the hollow there. I groan into his chest, using his shirt to muffle the sound. I feel his chuckle as Gale continues to lavish attention on my exposed neck and shoulder.

“Catnip?”

“Hmm?” an approving hum is all I can manage. I guide Gale’s hand on my waist even higher underneath my, or rather his, t-shirt.

The cool air, which assaults my neck when Gale pulls away, forces a pout to my lips and an unintentional huff of protest. I’m slightly embarrassed by the unusual noise that escapes me, but he smiles at my reaction, and sedates me with a rough kiss to the lips.

This kiss is very different to the one we shared before. We’re not slow, not calculated; I wrap a leg around one of Gale’s to pull him closer and bite his bottom lip. He hisses and begins to sit up, pulling me with him by the hand under my shirt. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth at my bitten invitation and groans when I react to the intrusion. The noise he makes causes a throb to begin between my legs.

At some point as we sit up, one of Gale’s legs is pinned between my thighs and I take full advantage of the situation, grinding against him to relieve some of the pressure building up. The movement causes the wetness between my legs to become obvious, to both myself _and_ Gale, and he gasps. We change our position, refusing to relinquish each other’s claim on our lips.

Gale turns so that he’s leaning with his back against the bottom of the sofa. I straddle him, sitting on his lap, feeling every inch of the evidence of his desire now positioned underneath my wetness. Still kissing him, I rub myself down his length, only his boxers (on both of us) and my underwear, separating us. A fire erupts in my belly and his hardness becomes more obvious beneath me.

“Fucking hell, Katniss.” Gale says, pulling away and letting his head loll forward in an attempt to regain any control.

I pay him back for his previous affections and kiss and nip at his exposed neck, earning gasps and moans as my reward when I reach particularly sensitive spots. I tug at the neck of his t-shirt and Gale seems to get the gist, pulling the whole thing over his head and tossing it aside.

I can’t control the sharp intake of breath I make on seeing Gale’s chest completely exposed and at my will. I lean forward, pressing a kiss to his chest and raking my teeth down towards his nipple. I’m slightly embarrassed by the action, not really knowing what to do, but the sounds Gale is attempting to muffle and the way his hands grip my back give me a new sense of confidence in my explorations and I continue my journey.

Gale’s nipple hardens under the touch of my tongue, the other under the attention of my fingers. I swirl my tongue around it, warming his chest with my mouth, and remembering Gale’s earlier kisses on my neck, I pull away and blow onto the exposed nub grinding my hips against his simultaneously.

“K-Katniss…” he hisses. Gale’s head falls back onto the couch and he twitches beneath me.

“Shush”, I smile, pleased and frankly flattered, that I can cause these reactions from him.

“Shush yourself.” He whispers. “Fuck,” he gulps, Katniss.”

Just his words send a stronger wave of throbbing to my crotch, and I have to bite my lip to stifle a moan. Gale rolls his hips upward, and the way I’m leaning over his chest causes some friction to glaze over my clit.

“Shit.” I say into his abs, my head dropping low at the sensation. Gale obviously picks up on this, because he moves his hips in the same way again. I push my open mouth against his bare skin, hoping his body will absorb the uncontrollable mewls escaping my lips.

Gale rolls his pelvis for a third time, emitting the same reaction from me. “You’re doing that on purpose.” I gasp, attempting to hold him still with my hands on his hips on the waistband of his boxers.

“Yep.” He admits, unashamedly, and the evil smirk plastered on his face gives me a new incentive to wipe it off.

“You know”, I kiss my way back up his body, giving particular attention to the nipple I failed to lather with my tongue before, “I can do things on purpose too.” Gale’s eyes widen slightly, revealing the almost black irises.

As I reach Gale’s face with my trail of kisses, I hook two fingers of each hand in the waistband of his boxers and tug slightly, revealing a tiny bit of previously unexposed flesh.

“Katniss…” Gale warns, licking his lips. I kiss away his words. When I pull away, I somewhat awkwardly, and not in any way sexily, shimmy backwards down his legs and pull my own legs underneath me, so that I’m kneeling in between Gale’s knees.

With my fingers still firmly inside his waistband, I lean forward and nervously touch my lips to the flesh below his belly button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey dudes, sorry it’s been a bit between the updates. I’ve been really freaking busy. Anyway, sorry about the wait, hope you like the chapter.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and REVIEWS are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Panic xxx


	7. You Had One Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay in updating. I have a thousand excuses and I’m really very sorry. I swear I’m not giving up or anything, just please be patient with me. Sorry for being terrible. I’ve got a lot on. :)

Gale gasps far too loudly in the quiet house as I pull his underwear over the remainder of his hips and down to his mid-thighs. I know I should reprimand him, shoot him a look of warning to remind him of the extremely thin walls and of our families sleeping behind them, but I can’t bring myself to. I am far too preoccupied with the sight of my best friend, naked, in front of me.

A blush I don’t even attempt to disguise rages up over my chest and rises through my cheeks, warming them thoroughly. I don’t dare look up to Gale’s face, or anywhere else for that matter. My eyes remain trained on the fabric of his underwear. It’s one of the few times I’ve ever felt so embarrassed and vulnerable in front of him, which in my mind I know is ridiculous, because we’ve known each other so long and we trust each other so much; not to mention the fact that I am practically fully clothes in Gale’s borrowed wear, and _he_ is the one vulnerable and naked at _my_ mercy.

The thought brings a small smile to my lips and grants me the valour to remove the boxers from Gale completely, pulling them down his legs and dropping the grey material somewhere to my side.

“Catnip…” he says in a strained voice, and only now do I look up at him.

Gale is watching me with black eyes. It seems that I am not the only one who is suffering from blushes, and without even considering my actions, I reach up and press my lips gently to each of his rosy cheeks. He pulls me closer with an arm around my waist and a hand on my neck and we share an intimate hug. Awkward from the outside I’m sure, but a reassurance for both of us.

If words weren’t our forte before, they certainly aren’t now, so neither of us bothers saying anything aloud. Communicating through looks and gestures are our usual safe zone and they don’t fail us in communicating now.

I pull back from Gale and he lets me go, trailing his fingertips over my skin, making me shiver. I retake my position, kneeling between his legs and look back to his face. He brushes a wisp of hair out of my face and lets his fingers find my lips. I kiss them and he smiles, so I go with an unfamiliar instinct and open my mouth slightly, taking two of his digits inside.

As I run my tongue over his callouses, Gale gulps hard in both shock and arousal; his pupils contract and expand before me in milliseconds. The sixteen year old awkward teenage girl in me, tells me that _this_ very new and very strange situation Gale and I have found ourselves in should _not_ be in any way sexual or arousing (having someone’s fingers in your mouth doesn’t immediately scream romance) but I cannot deny that it _is_.

I give Gale’s fingers one final suck and push them out of my mouth with my tongue. His mouth hangs open and his hand flops uselessly to the sofa’s edge.

“Stop gawking, Hawthorne.” I can’t resist the urge to ridicule him, despite the inappropriateness of the situation.

A smirk tugs at the edges of his mouth but the low growl, which accompanies it, makes the fire rage in my belly.

For the first time I allow myself to look at Gale properly. He’s leaned back against the sofa, completely naked, cheeks still tinged pink and his arousal still _very_ much apparent. Not that I’m complaining.

I lean forward, a fire still burning within but nerves betraying the flames, making me tremble slightly. I think I’m hiding my anxieties well until Gale uses a finger to tip my chin to look at him. His black eyes contract to a stormy grey and he opens his moth slightly, closing it again, pleading with me to understand his unspoken question.

I nod and smile up at my best friend. _I want to._ He strokes my cheek. He’s nervous too.

His fingers leave my face and I nervously allow myself to touch his erection.

If I was concerned before about Gale being too loud, I certainly am now. As my hand wraps around his length, he throws his head back onto the couch and clenches his fists in the cushions.

“Shit, Katniss.” He hisses far too loud. Gale must realise the situation we are currently in and brings a hand up to his mouth, biting on the palm. His chest rises and falls rapidly, the quick, shallow movements indicating just what an affect my actions are having on him.

I love it.

Although butterflies are still invading my stomach, as I begin stroking Gale in somewhat of a rhythm, and he becomes harder in my hand, my confidence grows, forcing down the butterflies. The muffled groans and hisses coming from above me are intoxicating, they feed my frenzy and my rhythm becomes more regular.

Confidence growing, I halt my actions. Gale looks down at me ad I watch him through my lashes.

“Cat…?” he whispers.

I drop lower, pressing a kiss to his erection.

xxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxx

There’s something tickling my face irritatingly.

I ignore it.

It happens again.

I ignore it.

It happens a third time and I have to admit defeat. I am awake, or rather, I am no longer in a deep sleep. Awake may not be the best term for my current state.

The tickling continues its assault on my nose, but I’m still too drowsy to adequately analyse the feeling, so I just scrunch up my nose displeasingly. It fails to cease and I begin to picture Buttercup pawing around my head, tail wafting across my nose.

I swat absently in the direction of ‘Buttercup’ but hit nothing and only succeed in waking myself up even more, though I have yet to open my eyes. I consider nudging Prim next to me, hoping she’ll remove the flea-ridden pest, but it still appears dark beyond my eyelids and decide to let her sleep.

For the time being, the tickling seems to have stopped, but I remain very much awake now; no hope of falling back to sleep. I assess my situation without opening my eyes or making too much movement.

From what I can gather, it still appears to be dark. There is a distinct lack of light seeping through my closed eyelids. There’s something heavy resting over my torso and I’m at a loss as to what it could be. A wiggle of my toes confirms a blanket is resting over me. I take an extra moment to dwell of the pressure on my torso, but I’m having difficulty placing the feeling. I can only suspect that it’s Prim sleeping against me, but for the life of me I cannot work out which part of her it could be.

The thing, whatever it is, tickles my face again and I make the executive decision to actually get up. I do an awkward half-stretch, and breathe in deeply.

I stop dead, mid-breath, and slowly exhale.

I sniff again, this time slower, memories of the night before, suddenly flooding my mind as the scent rushes through my system and blood rushes to my cheeks.

Without opening my eyes, I know I’m not in bed with my little sister and her stupid cat. I know I am on the Hawthorne’s living room floor, wrapped up in blankets and pillows. The heavy feeling on my waist shifts slightly, tightening, and as the form beside me moves, light attacks the back of my eyelids.

Not still dark then.

Something touches my face again, but this time the feeling is accompanied by a muffled giggle. I’m alert enough to know that it’s coming from Posy.

“Shush”, someone whispers- Prim.

Gale groans and shifts again next to me. His hand moves down my back and rest on my bum. I can only pray that our bodies are covered with a blanket.

Another tickle. Another giggle. Another groan.

“Leave them alone, you two”, that’s Hazelle.

“Let them sleep”, my mother.

I open one eye, only for my pupils to be assaulted by the sunlight. It takes a second for that eye to adjust, but once it does, I open a second.

Gale’s face is inches from mine, scrunched up slightly as his sister dangles a frayed string of ribbon over his nose, and my own sister watches, sniggering from the side. I don’t dare move, now knowing at least half our family is watching us, but Prim notices my open eyes before I can come up with a plan.

“Oh, Katniss. You’re awake.” Prim says, nudging Posy. Posy looks in my direction, retracting her hand from Gale. Both girls shuffle backwards slightly, I suspect at my expression (which part of my suspects is livid) and guilt floods both of their expressions.

I honestly can’t decide if I am extremely angry, extremely embarrassed, or extremely guilty. I can feel my face becoming hotter by the second.

Ideally, I want to stand up and run away from this situation faster than I have ever ran before in my entire life, but Gale’s hand on my bum is preventing me from moving too much, and frankly, I have no idea what I would do once I had started running.

“Hey, Mom.” Prim says standing up, but keeping her eyes trained on me, “Katniss is awake.” I follow her movements, sitting up as much as the still sleeping Gale will allow, and watch as Prim goes to stand by our mother. She ducks behind her slightly.

“I’m not going to attack you, Prim.” I assure her, but the tone of my voice isn’t comforting and she doesn’t move.

“Are you sure?” Prim asks.

“Yes”, I sigh, rubbing my eyes.

My mother turns to me. The mixture of emotions raging inside me condenses itself into one huge feeling of guilt. I want to apologise, though I’m not sure what for.

Hazelle enters my field of vision and comes to stand next to my mother, handing her a mug of something hot. They wear almost identical expressions of amusement and my guilt subsides slightly, embarrassment making another appearance.

“We…”, I begin to explain, but quickly realise I have no explanation I am comfortable with. There in no universe in which this situation plays well for either myself or Gale.

Speaking of Gale, I chance a glance at the boy beside me. He is shirtless. I could kill him. All this would have been awkward enough without him only being half dressed. I curse him in my mind. I managed to get dressed properly last night, how come he didn’t?

Posy has gone back to tormenting her brother with the ribbon. When she sees me watching, she stops sheepishly.

“Sorry, Katniss”, she says quietly and fidgets with the ribbon. I can’t stay mad at her and instead make the conscious decision to redistribute my anger at Gale.

“It’s okay, Pose”, I assure her, sitting up fully and pushing Gale’s arm off me. I lean in close to the four year old and whisper, “I think it’s time he woke up. Why don’t you do the honours?” Her face lights up at my invitation and I watch as she prepares to pounce on her older brother.

Before Posy gets the chance to attack Gale, I untangle myself completely from his grasp, and still avoiding the amused faces of my mother and Hazelle, sit on the edge of the sofa to watch the show.

Posy stands up and takes a few dramatic steps back from her brother. She grins at me, her stance ready to run. I give a tiny nod of approval and apparently that’s all she needs to initiate her launch.

Even as a tiny four year old, the trajectory of her jump and the perfect landing on Gale’s stomach, induces an eye-watering “ooft” from him as the air is knocked from his lungs.

Gale sits up violently, almost head butting Posy in the process, and whips around, seemingly searching for the danger. His eyes land on me and I can’t help but let out an extremely unattractive snort of laughter. Prim is in hysterics behind me and both of our mothers are snickering. Gale looks from me to our family behind, to Posy on his lap, and back again to me.

“What the fuck?” he asks, having managed to gulp air back into his chest.

“Gale said a bad word!” Posy shrieks, looking instantly to her mother.

Hazelle comes into my field of vision, walking around the sofa to stand by her eldest son. “I’ll let it slide.” She smiles at Posy, “You _did_ just almost kill him.”

Prim laughs again but stops immediately when Gale shoots her a look. I follow his gaze to my sister who then looks to me. “It was Katniss! She told her to.” Prim shrugs at me, not the least bit concerned she has thrown me under the bus.

Gale raises his brows at me and I feel slightly flushed at the attention. “Hey,” I deflect, “I am the innocent one in this.” Even as the words leave my moth I know that’s not true. Gale smiles but his expression is disbelieving of my innocence, rightly-so.

“It’s true.” Posy says sheepishly, pouting slightly and cuddling up to her big brother sweetly. “It was all me, it wasn’t Katniss’ fault. Sorry.”

Part of me knows that Posy is doing this because she _knows_ I will have to repay her with a story or by playing a game with her, but the other half of me is grateful that someone in this house seems to be on my side. Prim, who would usually be fighting my corner, seems to be taking far too much pleasure in my discomfort and embarrassment. Our parents seem to simply be amused by this whole situation.

“I forgive you, I suppose.” Gale squeezes Posy and kisses her forehead. “Now, get off.” He pushes her off his lap and she giggles when he tickles her waist, running for cover behind Prim.

I watch as Gale pushes the blanket off his legs and heat suddenly rushes to my face. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, but I know that I am overwhelmingly grateful that Prim and Posy seem to have gone into the kitchen, presumably to get breakfast. This doesn’t change the fact that our mothers are seeing exactly what I am seeing and the raised brown Hazelle is giving her son, makes me acutely aware that they too, have noticed.

As Gale stands, I chance a glace behind me at my mother and our eyes connect immediately. She wears an almost identical expression to Hazelle’s of what I can only identify as amusement and little of something else- maybe even embarrassment.

I turn back to Gale to see he has noticed the three sets of eyes trained on him.

“What?” he asks, eyes falling onto me.

I can’t physically bring myself to do anything other than blush furiously and look at my feet.

“Seriously, what the hell is going on?” he says at the lack of answer.

A crash that sounds suspiciously like falling cutlery sounds from the kitchen grabbing all of our attention. I look towards the door.

“It’s fine!” Prim calls from that direction and my mother rolls her eyes.

“I’ll check on them.” She says, going into the kitchen, but she pauses just before entering to give me a poignant look that I cannot decipher.

“I’ll be there in sec.” Hazelle calls and turns back to Gale and I. I’m dreading what she has to say, her expression now more serious than it was before. When I look to Gale, I feel pity for his utterly bamboozled expression. He looks from his mother to me, urging one of us for an answer.

Hazelle pats Gale’s bare shoulder. “Put a shirt on, son.”

Gale glances around our makeshift bed until he spots his t-shirt, still balled up in the same corner it was discarded in last night. “Yeah, sorry, Mom. I was hot.” He says, shaking the top so that it the right way around and pulls it over his head.

Hazelle hums. Her raised eyebrow returns. “I found it quite chilly last night” she looks to me “didn’t you, Katniss.”

I say nothing, don’t even nod my head, and although I can tell Hazelle is teasing both of us excruciatingly, I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared of Gale’s mother.

She _knows_.

She knows about Gale and I. And the worse part is, I’m taking this all alone because Gale doesn’t seem to have a clue that his mother and my mother, have put two and two together.

Hazelle shakes her head and slaps Gale’s back affectionately. “Go and wake your brothers for me, will you?”

He nods, still not realising the painfulness of the situation he has currently got both of us into with his attire.

Hazelle follows my mothers’ path towards the kitchen and Gale shoots me a questioning look. I stand up once she is in the other room and he pulls me closer towards him by my waist.

I’m about to either die of embarrassment or kill Gale (I’m not really sure which will come first), when Hazelle pops her head back around the door. We jump apart and my blush returns.

“And Gale?” she smiles.

“Yes?” he says quietly.

“If you don’t want us to notice next time, don’t put your underwear back on backwards.” And with that, Hazelle disappears back into the kitchen and closes the door, leaving Gale to gape at the door.

He looks at me, his expression unchanging.

My blush has yet to budge. I silently curse him again for not being able to get dressed thoroughly after our…activities.

Realisation eventually dawns on his face, which quickly turns to horror. “Dear God.” He whispers.

I press my fingers into my eyes. “You had _one_ job.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear God, indeed. But thank you SOOOOOOOO much for reviews and such. We had a death in the family and sometimes just reading the nice comments was so uplifting when I felt down. Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Reviews appreciated. xxx


	8. You guys got some splaining to do....

The sheer amount of people currently occupying Gale’s little house has allowed me the ability to successfully avoid both of our mothers since our awkward exchange this morning. I have found that the easiest way to evade their paths is to simply remain busy at all times.

\- Get Posy washed and dressed.

\- Make sure Prim is ready.

\- Get myself washed and dressed.

\- Look for my shirt.

\- Fail to find my shirt.

\- Put Gale’s t-shirt back on.

\- Break up some sibling bickering between Vick and Rory.

\- Eat breakfast without looking away from the table.

\- Wash the dishes.

Gale too, seems to have discovered that keeping busy makes it easier to avoid our parents, as he stands diligently at my side, drying the dishes from breakfast that I wash. Our place by the sink also allows us to face the window and look out onto the Seam, rather than at our families. Not that anything interesting is happening outside- no one is yet allowed to leave their properties or the square- but I’m doing everything in my power _not_ to catch my mother’s eye.

Gale nudges my side, whether by accident or on purpose I’m not sure, but I don’t dare look at him, knowing the family are still hovering in the kitchen behind us. I’m too focused on my own humiliation from this morning to listen to the conversations taking place behind me, but a particularly loud groan and thud, catches my attention and I glance around to the table.

Rory has dramatically thrown himself across the kitchen table, much to the amusement of the kids and the irritation of his mother.

“Well, I’m sorry, Rory,” Hazelle says to her son, “but it’s not down to me.”

“But I’m _bored_!” Rory emphasises with a hand gesture so extravagant that he almost hits Posy in the face.

“Me too!” Vick says, jumping on the bandwagon.

“Me too!” Posy choruses, standing on the chair closest to Gale. He easily lifts her off and back onto the floor, tea towel slung over his shoulder. She pouts at him.

“I _know_ you’re all bored!” Hazelle stands and throws her arms in the air in defeat.

My mother sits with Prim perched on her lap, due to the lack of chairs, and the same exasperated expression on her face.

Hazelle continues, “But you know how it works. We can’t leave the house, until the Peacekeepers say so, and that means no one is going to climb trees and no one is leaving the boundaries surrounding this house.” The tone of Hazelle’s voice is so authoritative that none of the boys or Prim dare to question her. However, Posy takes advantage of the sudden silence following her mother’s words.

“But, Mommy!” she whines, tugging on Hazelle’s skirt.

“But nothing!” Hazelle shouts so loud it even make me jump slightly, and Posy seems to get the message. She lets go of her mother and shuffles around the table to stand next to me.

Posy’s small frame leans against my hip and when I look down to her, she has a thumb in her mouth and a hand rubbing the hem of Gale’s t-shirt that I am still dressed in. None of this is fair on the kids. It’s almost impossible to keep the four of them cooped up in the house for two days, and although they can play in the back yard, it’s really not big enough for any of them to run around and exploit their energy.

The room is quiet after Hazelle’ outburst. I dry my hands on the tea towel Gale has removed from his shoulder and placed on the counter and place my hands on Posy’s shoulders. She looks up at me at the contact and takes the thumb from her mouth.

“But _why_?” she asks me in a tiny voice.

I’m about to give her a bullshit answer that we feed all the kids, when Rory slides off the table and irritably barks “Because the stupid careers won’t kill each other quick enough!”

“Rory!” Hazelle and Gale hiss at the same time. Rory shrugs and storms out of the kitchen, Prim on his heels. I hear the door from the living room to the back yard open and close forcefully, leaving the kitchen quiet again.

My mother and Hazelle are having a silent conversation involving shrugs and the rolling of eyes that is beyond me, Gale grips one of my hands, Posy watches the door where her brother and my sister have disappeared, and Vick stares at his feet from his position in the corner.

“He’s not _wrong_.” Vick mumbles as he leaves the kitchen. If Hazelle hears what he says, she doesn’t show it.

I can’t say I disagree with Vick.

The back door opens and closes again as Vick leaves.

The three of us, Posy, Gale and I, stand silently, looking over at our mothers. Posy has managed squeeze herself so far between Gale and I, that she’s practically hidden behind us.

Hazelle sighs heavily and gives me a sad smile, before looking to Gale with the same expression. “Why don’t you two take her into the living room to play?”

Gale nods and nudges me towards the door with our hands that are still entwined. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact, but our parents seem more concerned about the other kids, following Rory’s outburst.

I lead Posy into the living room and Gale let’s go on my hand as we enter. I look to him questioningly.

“I’ll be in in a second.” He clarifies, putting a hand on my back, and I nod.

Gale has left the door open between the two rooms, so even as I sit Posy down on Gale’s makeshift bed, next to the cardboard box filled with the ‘toys’, I can hear what is being said.

“I could talk to him?” Gale says, and I assume he means Rory.

“No, I’ll do it, later.” Hazelle replies. “Just watch Posy for a while, will you?”

“Okay.” Gale appears at the door a second later and closes it behind him, coming to sit down on the pillows next to Posy and I. “So, what are we playing?” he smiles at his little sister, all evidence of the sombre conversation with his mother completely gone from the tone his voice.

Posy looks from Gale to me and back again, her expression the picture of concern, not tricked by Gale’s false cheer.

“I don’t get it.” She says.

“What don’t you get, Pose?” Gale asks, though from his expression and the slight crease between his eyebrows I can guess he already knows what she means.

“Why won’t the Peacekeepers let us play with the other kids, outside?”

The fact that Posy’s main concern is that she cannot currently play with her friends in the street, is somewhat of a consolation that this little four year old doesn’t have the knowledge of the Hunger Games’ terror that the others are already aware of. She’s looking up at Gale questioningly, her thumb having made it back into her mouth.

Gale sighs heavily, his soft expression very reminiscent of Hazelle’s earlier. “I’m sorry you can’t play with your friends, Pose. But it’s only a little while longer.” He brushes some hair from his baby sister’s face and she crawls into his lap, settling back against his chest. She looks to me.

“Tomorrow, after dinner,” I say to the four year old, “this will all be over, and then we can go and climb some trees.”

Posy smiles and the thumb falls out of her mouth. “Promise, Cat, that we can go and climb some trees tomorrow?” she demands. I look over to Gale and his chest rumbles in a laugh.

“Yes.” I confirm. “After dinner, we’ll go and climbs some trees.”

“Promise?” Posy says very seriously and Gale laughs again.

“I _promise_.” I smile, grabbing her little finger with my own and bringing it to my mouth to kiss it. She smiles brightly and copies my action, kissing my own pinkie.

“Now Gale.” Posy says and does the same thing with Gale’s little finger, which is almost bigger than Posy’s hand. Gale kisses her finger, too, grinning at me at the whole audacity of the act. She drops his hand once the time-old ritual has been completed and looks at both of us expectantly.

“What?” I ask, still smiling like an idiot.

“ _We_ did the promise,” Posy points to me, “and _we_ did the promise,” she points to Gale, “now _you both_ need to do the promise.”

“Do we now?” Gale raises a brow at her demands.

“ _Yes_. Of _course_.” Her emphasis makes me laugh and Posy’s expression suddenly becomes stern. “I’m serious. It’s the _rule_.”

Gale rolls his eyes and holds his pinkie finger out for me to take. “It’s the _rule_ , Catnip.” He mimics Posy.

“It _is_ the rule, Catnip.” She parrots and I can’t help but grin at her use of the nickname.

I grab Gale’s finger. “Well I guess if it’s the _rule_.” I sigh jokingly, pulling his finger to my lips to kiss it.

Gale dramatically pulls it back and kisses my own finger, making Posy laugh from her position in his lap. “And let it be decreed,” he says in a weird Capitol accent, “that on this day, at the tenth hour-,” he glances at the broken clock, “-ish, that Posy Hawthorne, Gale Hawthorne, and Katniss Everdeen, made the pinkie promise to climb trees after dinner, on the morrow.” Gale finishes with a flourish of his hands that has Posy giggling hysterically, and me gasping for breath between bursts of laughter.

“You’re ridiculous.” I wheeze, swallowing hard in an attempt to get a handle on myself, “You know that, right?”

“You’re ridiculous, Gale.” Posy laughs, twisting to look up at her brother with a smirk on her face.

Gale raises a brow questioningly and looks back to me. “This is your doing, Everdeen.” He points a finger at his sister and shrug helplessly. “You’re turning her into a mini-you.”

“Now, would that be _so_ bad?” I taunt, lifting Posy from him and into my lap. She giggles and cuddles into me, wrapping her skinny arms around my waist and resting her head on my chest. “You want to grow up to be just like me, don’t you, Pose?” Posy nods, smiling widely, tongue caught between her teeth. “Sorry, Hawthorne,” I say, kissing Posy on the head, “she’s all mine, now.”

“Sorry, Hawthorne.” She giggles. “Anyway,” Posy’s expression becomes contemplative and she cranes her neck around to look at me, “you’re a Hawthorne, too.”

I look to Gale and he seems to share the same confusion I’m feeling, shrugging and looking back to his sister.

“No, Pose. Katniss is an _Everdeen_ , you know that. Like Prim, and Mrs Everdeen…” he shrugs again.

“But…” Posy twists her head to me, then back to Gale, whipping me in the face with her ponytail in the process, much to Gale’s amusement. “…I thought when you’re boyfriend and girlfriend you get married when you sleep in the same bed, then you have the same name.” The logic of a four year old takes a second to register in my brain, and apparently a second longer to register on Gale’s face. “Or are you ‘Gale Everdeen’ now?”

Gale seems to choke on nothing at Posy’s words, where I can only stay silent. Words tend to fail me at the best of times, so it’s no surprise to me that right now all I can do I watch Gale over Posy’s head.

“Well, er…” he begins, eloquent with his words as always, “…you see, Pose.” I do feel for Gale, attempting to explain this to Posy in a way which will both satisfy her, _and_ not throw both of us into hot water, but all I can do is nod encouragingly and give a small smile, which I’m sure is actually a grimace. “The thing is, Katniss and I aren’t _actually_ married.”

“But last night you slept in the same bed.” She says to Gale, as if this concept is beyond him. A real smile is pulled from me at that.

“Yes, but, that doesn’t make us married. Being married, that’s something else.” Gale says.

“What is it, then?” Posy asks.

“Two people, they get married when they’ve loved each other for a really long time. Like, lots of years. And you’ll figure that out when _you_ grow up. When you’re older, much older, like thirty-five, and I _approve_ of the person, and-,”

“Gale.” I interject, attempting to get him back on topic.

“Right, sorry.” He smiles at me apologetically and fixes his gaze back on his baby sister. “You understand, Posy? Marriage, it’s special, really special. Those two people should love each other more than _anything_ is the whole universe. They should want to be together forever.”

I smile and Gale’s description, dropping my head slightly to rest my cheek on the top of Posy’s head so he can’t see. It’s a different description of marriage to the one I’ve been living with inside my head, and Gale knows this. Marriage makes you weak, makes you vulnerable. Look at our parents.

For both of us, for both of our families, marriage is a sore spot. The closest relationship myself, Gale, and the rest of the kids have to an adult are our mothers, and both of their marriages were affected in the same way. I try not to think about it. Maybe Gale’s description is a nicer thought to focus on than my own, even if it is a significantly more terrifying concept.

Posy shifts beneath my cheek slightly and I lift up my head. She’s looking up at me with the same considering expression she was wearing before.

“But,” she looks at Gale, “that’s you.”

“What’s me?” he asks.

“No, you _and_ Katniss.” She clarifies.

“Huh?” Gale raises his brows in question, voicing my thoughts exactly.

“You and Cat, you’ve loved each other for a long time and you love each other more than anything else.” Posy says the words so casually that I wonder if this is not the first time she has voiced this opinion.

“Katniss and I aren’t-,” Gale looks to me, his cheeks red as my own feel. “We don’t…I…” he trails off without voicing any coherent thoughts and rubs the back of his head.

Again, I’m not much help in this situation and when Gale looks at me, cheeks still blazing, it’s all I can do to hold his gaze and not to look away. I owe him that much comfort.

It’s the four-year-old little girl among us who relieves the tension. Posy lays her head on my chest and looks up at my with a wry grin. “It’s okay,” she whispers dramatically, and in no way quieter than her usual small voice, “I won’t tell anyone that you’re in love.”

I cough to cover the fact that a smile has come out of left field and made residence on my face at her words. I chance a glance at Gale who is openly grinning at little Posy, though his blush has yet to dissipate.

“I promise.” She says. “And I’m _really_ good at keeping secrets. I won’t _ever_ tell my best friend’s secret.”

Gale raises his brows. “And who exactly is your best friend?”

“Katniss.” Posy shrugs, and I feel a sudden, rather unfamiliar, swell of emotion at her words.

“Really?” I ask, hugging her slightly tighter.

“Mmm hmm. You’re my _best_ friend, Prim is my _second_ best friend, Lucy, at school is my _third_ -,” she counts off on her fingers.

“And what about me?” Gale questions, crossing his arms.

“You’re my brother.” Posy smiles and I can’t help but laugh.

Gale narrows his eyes at me.

“She’s not wrong.” I point out.

“But, I’m your _best_ brother, right?” he questions.

Posy laughs, apparently taking great pleasure in teasing her eldest brother. “Well…” she puts a finger to her chin and pretends to think, “…maybe.”

“Oh is that so? _Maybe_?” Gale says darkly, a glint of mischief in his eyes, getting onto his hands and knees and crawling over to us slowly. “And I promised tree climbing!”

I gasp, mostly for Posy’s benefit, and tighten my grip on her, shuffling us both back. “Stay back, monster.” I warn, and Posy giggles, but drops one arm from my waist and aims a warning fist towards her big brother.

“Stay back, monster.” She imitates.

Gale moves closer towards us, growling and snarling as he moves. “I’m going to get you.” He sings, reaching out for Posy.

She squeals and buries her face into my neck even as she laughs, swinging another fist at Gale.

“I’m coming to get you.” He sings in the same tone, getting close enough to trap Posy and I against the wall.

Posy screams into my chest as Gale growls again, though the snarls are less threatening when interspersed with grumbles of laughter. I’m laughing too, partly at Posy’s squeals, but mostly at Gale, half sprawled on the floor, an arm stretching out to grab at Posy.

Gale lifts her out of my lap with one hand, using only the back of her t-shirt. Her grip around my waist remains solid, and I playfully pull on her arms, the game suddenly becoming a very strange variation of tug-of-war where a small child has replaced the rope.

“Let go, little girl!” Gale says in his exaggerated Capitol accent. “Your precious, Katniss cannot save you now!”

“What are you _doing_?” Rory asks from the back door, Prim on one side of him, Vick on the other, all with equal expressions of confusion etched onto their faces.

We stop our game and Gale carefully puts Posy down. She sits up, a huge smile on her face and looks towards Rory, brushing hair out of her eyes. She grabs one of Gale’s arms with one hand and one of mine with the other, wrapping them around her in an attempt to get the game started again.

“Gale is a monster, I’m a princess and Cat is a princess too, but she’s not wearing a dress because she has to save me and it’s too hard to do that in a dress.” Posy says this to our siblings as if it were a well-rehearsed play we were all part of.

“I was not aware that that was the story-line we were working with.” Gale says to me and I shrug.

Rory shakes his head and steps further into the house, letting the other two follow. “Whatever, it’s starting to rain, so…” he trails off, gesturing vaguely at the door Vick is locking.

“You decided to come and play in the house?” Gale finishes for him.

“Something like that.” Rory shrugs, kicking off his shoes and coming to sit on the couch where Prim has perched herself.

For several minutes we’re all quiet. Prim and Rory sit on the couch, watching as Gale and I untangle ourselves from Posy’s grasps and regain a more comfortable position on his make-shift bed. Vick leans over the back of the sofa, watching his oldest brother over the shoulder of his other brother. Posy looks around the room, now sitting in between Gale and I on the pillows, giving each person a questioning glance before deciding the game has in fact ended, and shuffling over to the ‘toy box’ to rummage through.

I catch Prim’s eye for a second, but she looks away guiltily, focusing on a spot somewhere to my right. I frown at this, looking to Rory. He sighs heavily and claps once, leaning forward to look at Gale and I with equal measure.

“So, we’ve been talking.” He indicates Vick and Prim, who still refuses to look my way. “And we’ve decided that if you two aren’t going to acknowledge it, well, we are.”

I look over at Gale, who mirrors my posture, glancing my way. I can’t help but feel as though a lecture may be on the way from our younger siblings. If I weren’t so worried about what Rory is planning to say next, I would find the way the twelve year old is looking at both of us rather hilarious. I almost feel as though we may be about to get into trouble.

Rory clears his throat and we both look back at him. He turns his attention to Gale, Vick’s head practically on his shoulder. “Are you having sex with her or not?”

I think I may vomit.

Prim smirks slightly but doesn’t alter her gaze.

Rory raises his brows in question.

Vick mirrors this.

Posy looks up from the box. “What’s sex mean?”

“Holy shit.” Gale says, and I drop my head into my hands.

I am _not_ prepared to have this conversation.

“Gale said ‘shit’!” Posy gasps.

“Fuck.” Gale groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, thanks for the reviews, they’re much appreciated and really spur me on. It’s exam time at uni so sorry for the long gap between updates. Sorry I’m always apologising. Sorry. Fuck. Sorry. Damnit!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Love you, guys. xxx


	9. Bets and Dirty Jokes

“Gale said ‘Fuck’” Posy announces to everyone in the room, as if they hadn’t already heard him.

Rory, Vick and Prim ignore her in favour of watching Gale and I intently. I can feel Gale, tense against my side. He is bent over, face in his hands, breathing heavily, apparently attempting to calm down.

Posy tugs on my sleeve. “Katniss, did you hear him? Did you? He said _two_ bad words, Gale said-,”

“Enough!” Gale cuts her off with an uncharacteristic shout, and stands up suddenly. Posy jumps and makes a little squeak. “That’s enough.” He says slightly more calmly. All four of the kids watch him silently as he commands their attention.

I scrub a hand over my eyes in an attempt to calm myself down. My pulse races in my ears and it takes all the willpower I possess not to abandon ship and flee.

“Posy,” Gale says, turning to his little sister, “I’m sorry I swore. I promise not to say any more bad words. Now promise me that you _will not_ repeat those words again.” His own words are strained and I can hear his restrain wavering slightly.

She nods at him.

“Say it.” Gale instructs. “Promise me.”

“I promise not to say bad words.” Posy says quietly, still slightly shaken at her brother’s outburst. She sidles over to me, and takes one of my hands in both of hers, playing with my fingers. Oddly, this calms me more than any of my own methods and I pull her closer.

“Okay.” Gale rubs his eyes and looks back to the three kids hovering close to the couch. “We are going to have a conversation,” he begins quietly, though his posture makes it evident that the change of tone does not invite comments from the children, “and this conversation will be held in a calm and collected manner, because both of our mothers are through that door and are at risk of hearing. Do we all understand?” All three of the older kids nod at him. “Very well. Then understand this, too. Posy is four and she does not need to hear about things she is too young to understand.” Gale looks poignantly at Rory.

Next to me, Posy raises a hand. Gale doesn’t seem to notice, so I clear my throat to grasp his attention. He smiles at his sister.

“Yes, Posy?”

“I’m not too young. I’m a big girl.” She says in a tiny, paradoxical voice.

“I know.” Gale smiles and his whole disposition softens. “And,” he stage whispers, “you’re the _best_ at keeping secrets, isn’t she, Katniss?”

Posy looks up at me expectantly.

“Oh yes.” I smile at her and tug her onto my lap. “The _best_.”

Apparently satisfied with this, Posy grins and pulls my arms around her waist, beginning to play with my fingers again. Gale turns back to the others.

He sighs heavily and pulls one of the chairs over to where he is standing and sits down. “How about this?” he looks in my direction, but continues to address the kids. “You ask us questions that are _appropriate_ and respectful, and we answer them in the same fashion?” Gale continues to look at me, silently asking if this is okay.

Five years of being ‘the man of the house’ has really made Gale into an experienced diplomat. I nod my head a fraction, conveying my thoughts in a way only he will be able to decipher.

_No point lying to them now._

“You promise to answer them?” Rory asks sceptically.

“Yes.” Gale says.

“ _Truthfully_?” Prim asks, looking at me.

“Truthfully.” I confirm.

She looks me in the eye for the first time since entering the room, seemingly scrutinising my answer. She smiles slightly, apparently satisfied, and nods, looking to Gale. “Okay, then.”

“Okay.” Rory says.

“Agreed.” Vick adds, and hops over the top of the couch to sit next to his brother.

Gale gives me what I think is meant to be a reassuring smile, but he looks more _concerned_ about this, than anything else. I attempt to replicate the sentiment, but I can feel that my smile has warped itself into more of a grimace. Posy shifts in my lap and I look down at her. Ten minutes ago I was playing princesses and monsters with a four year old and now, well, now I am about to discuss my love life with Gale’s siblings and mine. Not how I intended to spend the day.

I give Gale another, more assuring nod, and he motions to Rory with outstretched arms.

“Go for it.” Gale says, and Rory glances to Prim and Vick.

“I guess I’ll go first,” the twelve-year-old boy says. He shifts in his seat somewhat uncomfortably, and I almost laugh out loud. _He_ thinks this is uncomfortable; he should try stepping into either Gale or I’s shoes. “Are you, like, y’know?” Rory makes a vague gesture between Gale and I.

“What?” Gale prompts.

“You _know_.” A furious blush creeps up Rory’s cheeks and his discomfort does a surprising job at making me feel more at ease.

Prim smirks in the direction of her friend and jumps in to ease the tension with her own question. She addresses me. “Are you and Gale together?” she asks with a small smile. “Like a proper boyfriend and girlfriend?”

The question itself doesn’t take me by surprise. Quite frankly, after Rory’s original question, anything else seems better, but in an attempt to find a truthful answer to give Prim, I realise that really, I don’t have one. I look to Gale and he appears just as lost.

“Well…” I begin, still looking to Gale.

“You promised to tell the truth.” Prim reminds me.

“I know, I am, it’s just….” Again I trail off.

“It’s just, “ Gale interjects, “we haven’t really discussed a lot of things.” I nod in support as he continues talking. “This is all pretty new to us.”

“ _New_?” Vick scoffs, grinning. He nudges Rory. “You two have been dancing around each other for _years_.”

“We have?” I ask no one in particular.

Posy nods and leans up to whisper in my ear so the others cannot hear. “Told you I knew you were in love.” She smiles smugly. Apparently she knew before even Gale and I did.

I turn to Prim, who knows me better than anyone else in the world, well, besides perhaps Gale. “Did you think that there was something going on?” I ask her. She blushes and looks away guiltily.

“Of course she did!” Vick tells us. “She bet on you two getting together before _any_ of us. Even Mom-,”

“ _Vick_!” Rory hisses and elbows him hard in the side.

“I mean….” Vick looks to Rory and Prim, who look to Gale and I guiltily. “No one ever bet on you. _Ever_.”

Gale blows out a long breath and looks at me. “Did you know they were betting on us?” he asks.

I take a second to consider him, letting the newfound shock of the situation overtake me face. “Does it _look_ to you like I knew?” I say and he shrugs.

“Sorry, just checking I wasn’t the only one in the dark.” He stands up and paces to the other side of the room, looking out onto the back yard. “Okay, so explain to me this,” he turns around and looks at the three kids on the couch, “both of our families have had bets on whether Katniss and I will ever have a relationship?”

“Not _if_ you have a relationship,” Posy pipes up, “ _when_ it will happen.” She clarifies, and I gasp.

“How long has this been going on?” I ask.

Rory shrugs. “I dunno, maybe two years-,”

“What?!” Gale exclaims.

“-two and a half.” Rory continues. “Something like that.”

The room is quiet for a few moments. The kids look between Gale, who is pacing at the other end of the room, and I. One of our mothers coughs rom the kitchen and I glance over to the door. It doesn’t open. Gale walks over to my side and sits back down on the floor, a hand rubbing my back gently. I study the washed out pattern of the blanket I am sitting on and pick at a stray thread, when something occurs to me.

“So, who won?” I ask.

“Sorry?” Rory says, brows knitted together.

“The bet,” I say, “who won?”

He looks to Prim in question and she turns to Gale and I. “Well, I’m not sure.” She fingers the hem of her top nervously. “That’s kind of why I asked if you were a proper couple.”

Vick takes over. “The bets were _when_ you became boyfriend and girlfriend. Officially. But it doesn’t count if you’re just having se-,”

Rory punches Vick in the shoulder, effectively cutting him off. “It doesn’t count,” he takes over, eyeing his little sister, apparently remembering the agreements made to remain age appropriate, “if you two are just…” he searches for the correct term and I cant help but snicker at the return of his blush. “…Sleeping in the same bed.” He says slowly, implication laced in his words.

“I see.” Gale says and tightens his hold on my waist. “What were the stakes?”

“Not much.” Vick mutters, still rubbing his abused shoulder and eyeing Rory cautiously. “Mostly the winner just gets to gloat, but we promised that if Mom, or Katniss’ mom won then we’d all do chores without complaining.”

“For a week!” Posy says from my lap.

Gale squeezes my waist, drawing my attention to him. He smiles somewhat mischievously. “So, let’s say that _hypothetically_ Katniss and I were a couple…”

I catch his drift and take over. “Who would win?”

The three older kids exchange a few looks in silent conversation. Although I cannot tell exactly what they are attempting to communicate, I suspect they are all debating whether Gale or I will begin reprimanding them for this bet.

“Well?” Gale prompts.

Still the older kids remain quiet, but Posy slides off my lap and sits facing Gale and and I with a grin as wide as her face. She jabs a thumb into her chest proudly. I raise my brows in question.

“I win!” she declares.

“Really?” Gale asks, half laughing as he does.

I laugh out loud as I take in the disgruntled faces of the other three kids on the sofa. Posy turns to her brothers and Prim, still grinning.

“And _you_ said I’d never win.” she gloats.

“Technically, you haven’t won.” Vick derides, “Gale and Katniss said they aren’t a proper couple yet. So I might still win!”

“I’m glad our lives bring you so much entertainment.” Gale mutters beside me, bitterly, but when I look at him his eyes are smiling. He glances towards the couch where all four of the kids are now having a half-argument-half-play fight over the bet.

I smile and shake my head slightly. Quite possibly one of the largest confessions I have ever been a part of has just taken place, Gale and I have just admitted that there is _something_ going on between us, no matter how confusing, and we’ve just discovered that there is a two year old bet about us in existence; all of that and the kids are over it in five seconds.

I am about to express this to Gale when he does something so unexpected it takes me a second to process. Gale shoots one last glance at the couch and lifts a hand to pull my face towards his. He presses his lips to mine, and I freeze, but when Gale rubs his thumb over my cheek, I relax into the kiss.

We pull away far sooner than I would have liked, but the kids are still playing just feet away from us, and the fact that they haven’t noticed us already is a miracle.

“Hey,” Gale whispers close to my ear, “I think it’s stopped raining. Want to go have some privacy outside?”

I grab his hand and pull him up in an answer. We’re already half way out into the yard when Gale calls back into the living room. “Behave, we’re going outside.”

One of them calls an affirmative, but for the most part they ignore us and continue their game.

“You think they’ll keep quiet?” I ask Gale when the door is closed. “About…us?”

He smiles. “Yeah. I think so, although given the bets going on, I don’t suppose it matters much.” Gale leads me over to a bench at the end of the yard that he and I made when we were younger out of old pieces of wood and some paint cans we collected. I duck under the corrugated iron, which overhangs it, and sit down, Gale doing the same. He twines our fingers together more tightly and brings them up to his lips. “Can you believe they’ve been betting on us?” he says, breath dancing over my knuckles.

I shrug. “Should I feel offended?” I ask.

“Maybe. I mean, I just can’t believe our moms….”

“I know.” I let my head fall on to Gale’s shoulder and he unthreads our fingers to wrap his arms protectively around my body. I snuggle closer, relishing in the warmth emitting from his body. “They knew before we did.” I mutter.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

We spend the next hour or so huddled in our little sanctuary in the yard away from the prying eyes of our families. It’s nice, to be able to just talk with Gale about trivial things. We’ve spent so long being concerned about the welfare of other people, (our parents, our siblings, each other) that it is a rare and welcomed opportunity to talk of slightly more unimportant things like our teachers at school or the dirty jokes Gale has heard from some of his friends.

“Okay,” Gale says, “what about this one?”

I smirk and prepare myself for another one of his jokes. Some of them are so bad, it makes me wonder who’s minds they originate from. From what I can tell, most of the jokes Gale tells me have reached him through the older boys at school, who have heard them from older friends or brothers, who have heard them from some of the Peacekeepers, or maybe Haymitch. Perhaps there’s someone employed in the Capitol to write them. Maybe that’s what Effie Trinket does in the off-season.

I voice this to Gale and he shakes his head, eager to get to his joke. “I promise, this one is more funny than dirty.” He’s so excited, I can’t help but absorb some of his enthusiasm.

“Fine. Go on.” I instruct.

He clears his throat. “So, why can’t you hear a psychiatrist go to the bathroom?”

He almost squeaks in anticipation of the punch line and I smirk and roll my eyes, seeing exactly where this joke is going. “I don’t know.” I lie. “Why _can’t_ you her a psychiatrist go to the bathroom?”

“Because,” Gale sniggers, “the _‘P’_ is silent.”

He has barely managed to get the punch line out before he has dissolved into fits of giggles, so violent that he is forced to withdraw his arms from around me and wipe at the tears in his eyes. I laugh too, but mostly at his childish reaction than at the actual joke, which someone has already told me at school weeks ago.

Gale manages to compose himself enough to replace his arms around me, although I still feel him trembling every so often as he chuckles, presumably remembering the joke.

“It wasn’t _that_ funny.” I say mock-seriously just to annoy him.

“It was hilarious and you’re wrong.” He says back.

“I’m not.”

“You have no sense of humour.”

“I have a fantastic sense of humour,” I protest, “I’m just not mentally twelve years old.”

Gale huffs slightly, but his grip on me does not lessen. He’s quiet for a few minutes and I begin to wonder if I have genuinely offended him when he mutters, “Rory thought it was funny.”

I turn in his arms to look at his pathetic puppy eyes and realise he’s playing me. “Gale.” I say, purposely attempting to be as patronising as possible.

“Yeah?”

“Rory _is_ twelve.”

Gale rests his forehead against my temple and sighs heavily, though he’s smiling against my cheek. “Whatever.” He says, and we fall back into a comfortable silence.

The back door into the house opens and Gale and I look across the yard towards it. My mother steps out of the living room and Gale begins to pull away from me, but I hold his arms steady and shoot him a look. No point in pretending nothing is going on, now that we know she was betting on our relationship.

My mother closes the door behind her but does not step any further into the yard. She smiles knowingly at both of us, and despite me being the one keeping our proximity close, I suddenly become very aware of Gale’s hands on me, feeling slightly embarrassed. Instead of pushing them away, I squeeze him tighter.

“You look very…” my mother smiles and tucks some of her blonde hair behind her ear, “…cosy.”

I flush and I think she notices.

“It was getting cold.” I say, as an explanation and she puffs out a laugh.

“No it wasn’t.” she says, and folds her arms defiantly. Gale and I watch, as a thousand thoughts seem to flit across my mother’s expression in only a few seconds.

She sighs heavily and walks towards us until she is standing just in front of where we sit. “I’m not a great mother.” She says, eyes on me. I don’t correct her, but from what I can tell, she isn’t prompting me to. “I’m not sure how I should be reacting to _this_.” She unfolds an arm to gesture between Gale and I.

“Well,” I say, looking to Gale, who watches my mother, and then back to her, “it would have been nice if you hadn’t been betting on us.” She at least has the grace to look sheepish, and I can’t help but smile at her fondly. I’m not really mad. “That would have been a good start. But, I think you’re doing fine.”

“Yeah.” Gale says, and my mother turns her attention to him. “I think you’re a fantastic mother, Mrs Everdeen. I mean look at how Katniss and Prim are turning out. I’d say you were doing a pretty amazing job.”

I suspect that this is the nicest thing anyone has said to my mother in recent years, including everything I’ve ever said to her. This revelation makes me feel guilty, because for everything I’ve really hated my mother for, the fact is that she is still my mother, and I have no doubt that she loves my sister and I more than anything.

“Thank you, Gale.” She says quietly. “But, I think that’s a testament to my daughters, rather than my parenting.”

Gale opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can, my own words tumble from my lips unexpectedly.

“You’re a great mother, Mom.” She looks as shocked as I feel at the words, but before the moment can dissipate, I suck up enough courage to continue. I stand up, and Gale follows, but lets his arms fall away from me, stepping slightly to the side. I stand eye to eye with my mother and take a long breath, reaching out to brush my hand with hers. “I’m sorry I don’t tell you more often that I love you.” I say quickly, noting the glassiness in her eyes. “But I do. I do love you, Mom.”

My mother reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder, but pulls me close for a hug last minute. I stiffen for a second before allowing myself to wrap my arms around her and revel in the rare comfort from her. I feel her kiss my hair, and when she pulls back she keeps her hands on my cheeks, brushing the hair from my face.

“I love you, too, Katniss.” She says. “I love you and your sister more than the world.” My mother leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead before letting me go and taking a step towards Gale.

She is significantly shorter than Gale, but the expression on her face and the way she is squaring her shoulders makes my mother appear more intimidating than I’ve ever seen her before. Gale watches her cautiously.

“You look after her.” My mother instructs, pointing a finger in his chest. “I know she can take care of herself,” she says, and I smile at my mother’s faith in me, “but you still take care of her.”

“Always.” Gale nods.

“And don’t you _dare_ hurt her.”

“Never.”

“Okay then.” My mother’s demeanour changes in an instant and she smiles up at Gale warmly. “I trust you.” She says to him, and then turns to me. “Both of you. And I love you.” She turns back to Gale. “Both of you.” She says earnestly.

“Thank you.” Gale says, and wraps an arm around my waist.

My mother smiles at the action. “Lunch will be ready in ten minutes.” She says and turns around, walking back to the door and going back into the house.

I look at the closed door to the house where my mother has just entered. “That was unexpected.” I say to Gale. When I turn to him, he is watching the door, too.

“But nice.” He smiles, looking down at me.

“Yeah.” I agree, leaning my head on his arm. “It was nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews and the messages on tumblr! I love reading them so much!
> 
> Please review if you can, they make my day. Thanks for reading, guys.
> 
> xxx


	10. It's the Beginning of the End

Here in the Seam, lunch is a modest affair. Perhaps not _modest_ I think, as I look at the small portion of jarred fruit each child is receiving, perhaps lunch is better described as ‘slightly more than non-existent’. It amuses me slightly thinking back to my own mother’s choice of words only minutes ago.

_“Lunch will be ready in ten minutes.”_

It’s jarred, preserved fruit with a pathetic side of white rice. It is not a meal that takes an awful lot of preparation. I bat that thought out of my mind and hand Posy her drink from the counter. She thanks me and takes her food to the living room, Rory intercepting her halfway and carrying her drink for her. It may be a small meal, but it’s certainly more than many people in the district will be eating today. Sometimes I have to remind myself how lucky I really am. Gale nudges my shoulder lightly as he passes me in the kitchen.

Hazelle hands Gale and I our plates and we sit down next to each other at the kitchen table. Our mother’s sit opposite us, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by me that both of them have foregone the fruit, no doubt to allow the rest of us slightly bigger portions. Gale shifts beside me, and when I look over to him I can see him eyeing our mothers’ plates.

“You guys can have mine.” He moves to scrape some of the fruit from his plate onto his mother’s. “I’m not really that hungry.” He lies. Gale is much bigger tan me and _I_ am uncomfortably hungry.

“Don’t you _dare_.” Hazelle warns him in her most parental tone. “You eat that.” She looks over to me, apparently sensing my next move before I do. “And _you_ eat _that_. Don’t even think about it, Katniss.”

Neither of us moves. I can sense Gale is debating on whether to disobey his mother completely by the way his jaw is set and his eyes are trained on the food in front of him.

It’s hard for him; it’s hard for both of us, to watch as your parent suffers through hunger just so that you can feel slightly more sated. It isn’t fair, but for those in the Seam, nothing ever is. I want to force my mother to eat my share as much as Gale, but I have the foresight to see that no matter what either of us do, my mother and Hazelle are professional parents, and can be even more stubborn than their teenage offspring.

I place a hand on Gale’s thigh in a manner that I hope is comforting, and see the tension in his shoulders fade, just slightly. He sighs heavily and looks up to Hazelle solemnly.

“One day you’ll have to listen to us.” He says. Gale looks down for a second but when he glances up again his eyes and filed with mirth and he’s smirking at our parents. “When you’re both too old to even drag yourselves to the bathroom,” he says dramatically and my mother laughs, Hazelle just shakes her head, although she’s smiling, “and when Katniss and I have to tie you to your rocking chairs so that we don’t find you hopelessly wandering around the Seam,” he stands up and begins acting out his scenario around the table, “and your shouting for a cat that has been dead for twenty years while the crowds gather around you and bet on what has driven you both to such insanity.” Gale collapses on the floor by my feet, still murmuring nonsense as he pretends to be our aging mothers.

Vick enters the kitchen with his empty plate, steps over Gale, deposits the plate in the sink, and leaves again, without even acknowledging his brother on the floor. I laugh. The kids are far to use to Gale’s stupidity at this point, apparently. It keeps us from thinking about other things. Well, sometimes.

Hazelle snickers. “I can tell you now what will drive me to insanity.” She stretches under the table to fire a swift kick to her son’s shin. “It’s having a son like _you_.”

“Ow! Mother!” he sits up and stalks back to his seat, looking particularly wounded and pathetic, despite his large stature. “No need for that.” He mutters, and begins to eat his food.

“Don’t’ forget,” Hazelle smiles wryly, “you’re still living under my roof and as long as you do, I have every right to reprimand you in _any_ way that I care to. Including minor physical corrections.”

“You mean abuse.” Gale comments, though he’s smiling.

My mother sits back in her seat and chews a spoonful of rice thoughtfully. She swallows it and gives me a poignant look. “Same goes for you, too, Katniss.”

I raise and eyebrow at her and look to my side a Gale. “Was that a threat?” I ask him, and he shrugs.

“I think so.” He grins and eats some of his fruit. “But if I get kicked again I’m moving out.”

“And where will you go?” My mother smirks. “You can’t get a house of your own until you get married.”

Gale picks up some more fruit. “I guess I’ll just have to get married, then.”

The look both my mother and Hazelle give me simultaneously makes me inhale some of the rice from my fork. It sticks to the back of my throat and I begin to cough violently until Gale claps me on the back and it dislodges the food from my windpipe. I gulp air into my lungs and look disbelievingly at Gale. His cheeks have gone scarlet.

Gale rubs the back of his neck and glances between all of us at the table before looking back to me.

“That wasn’t a proposal or anything.” He mutters and I can see my mother smirking behind her mug as she holds I up to her mouth. “I mean- I- well, if I- but that _was not_ me proposing to you.”

“It better not have been.” I mumble back, and fix my eyes on my almost clear plate. Heat radiates up from my chest to my cheeks.

“Who’s getting married?” Rory strides into the kitchen with the rest of the kids plates and dumps them on the counter next to Gale.

“ _No one_ is getting married.” Gale stresses.

Hazelle is shooting amused glances at my mother who is still attempting to conceal her laughter. I don’t like how much amusement our families seem to be getting from Gale and I’s relationship.

“Are you two getting married?” Rory leans over the kitchen table on his elbows and looks and Gale and I curiously.

“No.” Gale says.

“Shame, because we’ve got bets on that, too.” He smirks and goes back into the living room, leaving Gale and I to stare after him.

“How many bets do you guys have on us?” I ask my mother and Hazelle, more shocked than angry.

My mother shakes her head as she stands and walks around us to the sink. “Don’t worry about it, it just shows how much we love you.”

“How?” Gale says and I nod in agreement.

“It just does.” Hazelle clarifies. “Now why don’t you too go and get the kids and-,”

A siren cuts off the end of her sentence and dread hits me like a punch to the belly. It’s horribly loud and despite being slightly different from the one that alerts the district to an accident in the mines, I can tell just from the expressions on my mother and Hazelle’s faces, and from the way Gale grips my arm, it reminds them of the mines, too.

All four of the kids come running into the kitchen with various expressions of panic on their faces. Prim rushes over to my mother, and Posy, white as a sheet and with a look of pure terror on her face, throws herself into Gale’s arms and hides her face in his chest.

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it. I don’t like it.” Posy chants into her eldest brother’s t-shirt.

Vick and Rory stick together by the door, but both keep their eyes firmly on their mother until she beckons them over to the table. For all of his bravado, Rory seems overwhelmingly happy that he is invited into his mother’s arms.

For a few seconds we all listen to the broken tones of the siren. Gale’s hand still grips my forearm, even as his other pulls his baby sister onto his lap. I edge closer to him until my whole side is flush against him.

The sound of the siren suddenly dulls slightly and I know all too well why. Posy lift her head slightly at the change of volume, but knowing from previous years what is coming next, Gale pushes her back down with a hand to the back of her head.

“Sshhh, ssshh. It’s okay, it’s-,” Gale’s soothing is abruptly ended as a louder voice takes over.

“District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately. District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately.” The generic voice over makes my insides coil.

“I don’t want to.” Vick says quietly, and I barely hear it over the constant instruction from the Capitol voice over.

Hazelle kisses the top of his head. “I know.” I see her mouth into his hair.

Even as the siren continues and the repeated instruction remains, none of us move. I know we will have to, sooner rather than later, but even a few more seconds of respite from what will surely be horrendous images, is something.

“District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately. District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately.” The voice gets louder and the base makes the whole house feel as if it is vibrating with each syllable.

“I don’t like it.” Posy cries.

“I don’t want to.” Vick says.

“District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately. District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately.” Louder.

“When’s it going to stop?” Rory yells.

Prim holds her hands over her ears and silent tears track down her face.

“I don’t like it.” Posy sobs.

“District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately. District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately.”

I wrap my arms around Gale’s torso and Posy’s skinny body.

“District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately. District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forehead into Gale’s bicep.

“District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately. District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately.”

Someone bands hard on the front door twice and I open my eyes to see a Peacekeeper standing in the doorway to Gale’s kitchen, gun held aloft. I grip Gale tighter.

I know this Peacekeeper. Not well, but Gale and I have spoken with him at the Hob a few times and I know his name is Aaron. He lowers the gun as recognition floods his face.

“I’m sorry.” He calls over the Capitol instruction. “You know the drill, guys.” He holds up a device I know monitors the television use in homes around the district. “You need to put it on.”

“It’s happening now, isn’t it?” Rory pulls away from Hazelle and squares his shoulders.

Aaron nods. “It’ll be over soon, kids.” He smiles but, not particularly comfortingly.

The siren stops and I watch as everyone in the room, including Aaron, relaxes slightly. The generic Capitol voice still tells us we need to be watching the television over and over, but it’s significantly quieter and I can flush it into background noise and focus on what Aaron is saying.

“I need to know who’s here.” He says and pulls a small pen from the case of the electronic device he holds.

“Hawthorne.” Hazelle says, and Aaron taps away on the device. “Hazelle, Gale, Rory, Vick, Posy.” When he pauses his tapping, Hazelle continues. “Everdeen-,”

“-Katniss, Primrose and their mother?” Aaron looks to me. “Correct?” he asks.

“Yes.” I say, unable to articulate anything more.

“Okay, I have everyone on here.” He puts the device back in his pocket and takes his gun from its holster. “They’ll be someone back to check on you I would think. To check on _all_ of you. Including the kids.” His eyes darken slightly. “And it might not be me. The Capitol has sent some temporary PKs to keep everyone in line.”

It’s not a threat from Aaron, but for all I know his uniform is bugged and he can’t say too much. Gale looks at me worriedly and I nod slightly. Aaron is warning us. Everyone must be watching for the allotted time. He’s trying to tell us we won’t get away with protecting the kids like we’ve tried in previous years. We won’t be able to shut them into their rooms until it is over. He’s trying to tell us that we all must watch the finale of the Hunger Games. It terrifies me.

“I’ll be going. Put the television on. Watch it. All must watch.” Aaron speaks as if he is reading from a script. I wonder how many houses he will have to visit tonight. “District Twelve residents are subject to mandatory Capitol viewing, immediately. All rebels will be punished.” He turns to leave with a tiny smile for Gale and me.

“Hey, Aaron.” Gale calls after him. Aaron turns towards him. “Thanks.”

Aaron nods and swiftly leaves the house, closing the door behind him. As the door clicks closed, Hazelle stands and pulls her two youngest sons towards the living room.

“Come on, kids.” She says sadly.

My mother follows with Prim, and I watch as they disappear behind the door into the room where the television sits, barely used, next to the children’s toy box. Posy whimpers in Gale’s lap and he shushes her as he stands, pulling me up with them.

We walk across the kitchen at a slow pace we’re not used to. Hand in hand, Gale and I make out way into the other room, no longer caring about what our families are thinking. It feels as though we are walking to our death. That thought alone makes me feel infinitely guilty. Two people from our district, two people I _knew_ have already died gruesome deaths at the hands of the other children in that arena. For now I am safe. Gale is safe. The kids are safe. For now. I should be grateful for that.

Gale squeezes my hand and I look up at him. He tips his head towards our makeshift bed from the night before and pulls me down to the floor. The rest of the chairs have been taken by our parents and siblings, all squashed together on the sofa for comfort.

I hear Gale ask Posy if she wants to go and sit with Hazelle, but she must answer in the negative because he pulls he tighter against his chest with one arm, and pulls me closer to his side with the other. Gale warms my left side, and my back is pressed against Vick and Prim’s legs, where they sit on the couch. At least one of them, but I suspect both, is shaking against my spine.

The capitol emblem glows and spins on the holographic background of President Snow’s face. It’s not a live image of the President, but when the emblem fades into the back and his face becomes more prominent, a startling peak of fear bubbles up in my throat. I swallow heavily and lean into Gale. Posy snivels and Gale mumbles something about it ‘being alright’, but he says it into my hair.

Gale’s face presses into the crown of my head and the vibrations of words so low I can’t decipher them, rumble into my skull. My heart is racing and I know Gale can tell because I can feel his own pulse just a rapid as my own, and his laboured breathing into my hair.

One of the kids, I think it might be Prim but it’s difficult to tell, sobs heavily behind me. A hand comes down from the couch, between Gale and I, and grips the back of Gale’s t-shirt, rubbing the fabric between a thumb and finger. I turn slightly to see Vick, one hand on the shirt, the other in his mouth as he sucks his thumb. I’ve never seen him suck his thumb since he was eight. Rory doesn’t even attempt to tease him about it.

It goes quiet outside as the Capitol instructions stop. Vick’s hand on his brother’s t-shirt stills, but he doesn’t let go. Posy lifts her head to look at me questioningly.

“It’s starting.” Rory says behind us, deadpan.

The flickering projections of President Snow’s face, melts into something brighter, enticing Posy to turn around in Gale’s lap and pay closer attention. It’s a different studio, as it is every year, but the sickly oranges and blinding glitters of Caesar Flickerman’s den is all too familiar. He grins at the camera with bright blue hair and purple lips and welcome’s us all to the finale of the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

It takes every ounce of will I possess not to leave the house and run into the woods. Gale’s grip on my waist tightens painfully, as he attempts to root himself. His fingers dig into my ribs too hard, but I don’t stop him.

I feel sick as Caesar manically grins and chants his opening spiel, talking of what an exciting games it has been this year and how it is only hours away from all being over. He talks of one deserving winner but fails to mention the twenty-three undeservingly murdered children.

Bile begins creeping up my throat as he announces the finale of the games will be introduced by showing all of the previous deaths. There’s only five left, apparently. A large boy from District 11 and four Careers from Districts 1,2 and 4. Another has died since I last heard. They go in chronological order and when a close up of a little boy from District 7 having his head bludgeoned in is the first, Gale covers Posy’s face with his hand and grits his teeth.

Prim is crying. Vick is pulling on Gale’s shirt. Rory sits up straight but only looks at his knees. Our mothers are trying to calm the kids. Gale shushes Posy and shields her eyes. I fight very hard not to vomit. I want to look away, and I do, but my eyes drift back to the horrific images of children being slaughtered as the live crowds in the Capitol cheer.

I hate it, I think. I hate it so much.

“Me too.” Gale says quietly.

Apparently I’ve spoken aloud.

When they show Peeta Mellark being sliced lengthways by a Career with a sword, I feel the first tears coming. It would be pointless to wipe them away, but Posy is watching me as Gale holds a hand to her face to stop her seeing anything else, so I dry them with my sleeve and take the hand she offers me.

“It will be finished soon?” she asks quietly.

“Yes.” I lie, and force a smile.

A girl gurgles blood from the hole in her neck on the television. The crowd roars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review, please! I love reading them! xxx


	11. Who Can Run the Fastest?

In the hour we’ve been watching the games, Caesar Flickerman has described to us all in great detail, the circumstances surrounding the deaths of the nineteen children who have already fallen. He uses that term quite a bit, ‘fallen’. It makes me scoff each time he says it because not one of them ‘fell’ in some heroic and tragically romantic way. These kids were murdered. They died in appalling and undignified ways.

Each time a death is relived, the crowd in the live audience cheers.

Each time a death is relived, the people in Gale’s living room recoil.

“How long is it going to be on for?” Vick asks, his words slurred slightly from the thumb in his mouth.

“We don’t know.” Hazelle says quietly. I turn and see her pressing her lips together tightly. I can’t imagine how it must feel to know you have no choice in exposing your children to such terrible images.

“As long as it takes.” Rory says.

Vick frowns. “As long as it takes to what?”

Rory takes a second to look away from where his is frowning at the television and turns to his baby brother. Whatever he was planning on saying seems to die on his lips, and he shakes his head. Gale looks around, too, eyeing Rory warningly.

“Just,” Rory says quietly, “just, as long as it takes for someone to win.”

Vick nods but looks solemn. I glance over at Prim. She’s snuggled into our mother’s side, watching the exchange with pale skin but flushed cheeks.

A loud cheer from the audience draws our attention back to the television. Caesar grins at me with too many teeth and eyes too blue to be anything but genetically modified. His hair literally glitters and every word he speaks is accompanied by a flourish of his hands.

Gale lets go of Posy for a second to imitate the flourish. “Death!” Gale grins at me, speaking in whispers but just as theatrically as the presenter. “It is so very wonderful, as long as you have sparkling hair and a stick up your as-,”

I slap his over the head. Hard. But I can’t help but laugh at Posy’s very confused expression and Gale’s fake-hurt look.

“Are my acting skills a joke to you, Everdeen?” he grins.

“Skills?” I smirk. “Not sure about that.”

We’re both giggling like teenagers and he begins tickling my side with the hand on my waist. When he stops, we’re still laughing, and Gale kisses my temple over and over and presses his nose into my hair. One of the kids, maybe Rory, makes a gagging noise and Hazelle tells them to ‘give it a rest’. Caesar is discussing something tamer for the moment, reviewing the fashions from the beginning of the games, and for a while we can all smile. And it’s then that three things dawn on me.

1) It is quite possible that this is the worst day of the year so far, for _everyone_ in the room. We’re watching children slaughtering each other and we really have no choice about it, but we’re laughing. Gale has managed to make me smile and giggle like a teenager, even in the worst situation.

2) We’re giggling like teenagers because we _are_ teenagers. And all of a sudden I realise that as much as I refer to the ‘kids’ as our younger siblings, Gale and I are really just kids too. That thought takes me aback. At sixteen and eighteen, we’re still young. It’s odd, and strange and I can’t quite work out why, but something about the realisation comforts me until I’m punched in the chest with realisation number three.

3) I love Gale. I know this, I’ve _known_ this for years but this is different. He smiles at me and makes me laugh when we’re witnessing the worst things and without him I would have starved long, long ago and I am in love with this silly boy beside me.

 _“Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment we have all been waiting for, the moment when we cross live to our remaining five tributes.”_ Caesar’s voice drags me from my reverie and all at once, we sober up.

Prim begins crying, and Vick’s hand finds the tag in Gale’s shirt, Rory sits up straighter and Posy reaches out for my hand. We watch quietly, no longer laughing at Gale’s impressions or Rory’s mocking of us.

I’m finding it very difficult to sit still next to Gale, and his arm around my waist is the main thing keeping me from getting up and walking around. Well that, and the fact that according to Aaron, a Capitol Peacekeeper could come in at any time and check on us. I think back to what Aaron said, and part of me wonders if we’re being watched right now. It wouldn’t surprise me if the Capitol had managed to bug our houses. President Snow does seem to see everything.

Even with Gale’s hand on my side, and Posy running her fingers over my palm, I can’t help myself from looking over my shoulder at our other younger siblings.

Prim has stopped crying, but each time I turn around she has her face hidden in my mother’s shoulder. At some point she has pulled her legs up so that her thighs are pressed against her chest, and her knees come past her chin. My mother strokes her hair rhythmically, and every so often I catch the hum of a tune that is familiar somewhere in the depths of my memory. Perhaps the tune is a comfort to Prim, but each time a catch the melody, it only provides a soundtrack for the horror I’m witnessing.

Vick sits almost directly behind me, next to Prim, my back pressing against his legs. If it was him shaking earlier, he’s stopped, and the hand that gripped Gale’s collar has retreated in favour of holding his other brother’s hand. The fingers from the other hand rub his nose, something I think that maybe Hazelle did when he was a baby to get him to sleep, while his thumb remains crammed in his mouth. Vick watches the television, but closes his eyes each time something frightening happens, which means his eyes are almost permanently closed at this point.

Rory holds his brother’s hand diligently, and I can tell from the white in his knuckles that he’s squeezing it harder than he would care to admit. The twelve-year-old’s other arm is wrapped around Hazelle’s. He seems determined to watch, sitting up straight between his brother and mother with narrow, but squared shoulders, staring at the images unfolding in front of us all. I’ve caught him twice with his eyes squeezed shut though, but don’t say anything about it.

Of all the kids, it’s four-year-old Posy who seems to be coping the best with the situation. I suspect that’s down to the fact that she simply has no idea what is going on. I have no intentions of explaining this to her.

Posy sits in Gale’s lap, face no longer hidden in his chest now that the loud noises of the Capitol instruction and the sirens have stopped. Gale has her strategically positioned, so that every time something happens onscreen he deems too horrible for her to view, he can pin her face to his torso with a hand, and the only thing she will be able to see, is me. I can tell from the way his other hand twitches against my waist, that he would prefer to shield her vision the whole time, but Posy is curious and only lets him do it for brief periods of time before she begins lashing out in a tantrum fuelled by fear and curiosity. At some point she lets my hand go, but I leave it resting on Gale’s leg.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We’ve been watching for an hour into the live show, and all five of the final tributes are still alive. For now we’ve been spared the true gore and horror of children murdering each other live, but the game makers are obviously getting impatient, and as a result we have watched some less than pleasant scenes.

When an artificial fire burns the trunk of a tree the boy from eleven is sleeping in, and it falls to the ground with a sickening crunch, Gale shield’s Posy’s face and grips my waist harder. His lips are pressed together tightly when I look over at him, but relief floods his face, and when I turn my attention back to the images; the boy has escaped the fire and is sprinting through a too-green-to-be-real forest.

Posy pushes Gale’s hand away from her face and smiles far too brightly at the television.

“I like him.” She declares, and looks to me. “Do you like him, Katniss?” she asks.

“Yeah” I say, unsure really how I should respond when I know that it is very likely that I will have to watch this boy die sooner rather than later.

“Gale?” she says. “Do you like him?”

“Yes.” Gale kisses the top of her head and takes a second to close his eyes. The hand on my waist has found its way under the borrowed shirt I’m wearing, and his fingers stroke the skin there. I imagine in different circumstances I would be enjoying his touch more, but either way, it’s comforting.

Gale lifts his head from Posy’s and opens his eyes. The piercing grey locks with my own when he speaks. “We’re rooting for him.” He says quietly.

The games have been going on for over a week, and neither Gale, nor I have even discussed the tributes, but I can’t say I disagree with him. The other four are careers. If we are rooting for anyone, it is most certainly going to be the boy from District Eleven.

“Yeah.” I say to Gale. “We’re rooting for him.”

Posy draws our attention back to her, with creased eyebrows and curious eyes. “What are we rooting for him for?” she asks me.

“To win.” Gale says.

“Win what?”

She looks between us, but when neither of us answer, she turns in Gale’s lap to the others on the couch behind us and asks them.

“Win what?”

“The Hunger Games.” Rory says dryly.

“How do you win the Hunger Games?”

My heart breaks at the innocence in her tone, and I don’t hesitate to glare at Rory, warning him not to say anything that will ruin that innocence, with just my expression. He opens his mouth to speak, but then looks down at his hand, entwined with his younger brother’s, and closes it.

Having apparently decided that she is getting no more answers from the couch, Posy settles back in Gale’s lap and turns to me.

“How do you win, Kat? She asks, almost shyly.

Gale looks at me with desperation, and I just _know_ that he’s having the same thoughts as me. How do you explain something so awful, and yet so completely true to a four-year-old? This year is maybe the first year Vick and Prim have really understood what the games truly entail. They’re eleven and twelve and still too young.

The little girl continues to wait patiently for her answer, watching me. My eyes flick to the television to see some kind of flesh-hungry bat chasing the careers through the brush.

“You win if you can run the fastest.” I say.

Gale smiles minutely and squeezes my side.

“And he can run the fastest?” Posy asks.

“We’ll see.” Gale replies.

“I’m rooting for him, too.” She smiles, and snuggles into her big brother.

I follow Posy’s lead and snuggle into Gale’s side, resting my head on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around him and Posy. She holds my arm to her and absently plays with my fingers as she watches the boy from eleven sprint closer to the cornucopia. Gale rests his cheek on my head, and I feel him press a kiss to my hair.

At any other moment I would be grateful for the lack of snarky remarks from out families, but right now, their attention is otherwise occupied, and it makes me pine for an irritating comment from one of Gale’s younger brothers. They should be teasing us about our public displays of affection, not holding each other’s hands for dear life.

On the television, the flesh-eating bats have driven the pack of four careers into the centre of the arena. The camera zooms in on their faces as it dawns on them that this is the final showdown. Caesar Flickerman’s voice over tells us as much.

The footage flicks back to the boy from eleven, Thresh, Caesar tells us. He’s still running away from fire that licks at his heals, but he’s moving slower now. The fire remains at a constant pace, only allowing him to move in one direction.

“They’re forcing him to the careers.” Gale mumbles.

“Hmm.” I acknowledge.

I takes less than ten minutes for Thresh to make it to the cornucopia, where the careers are guarding supplies they won’t need. I can see there is a large sack of rotting apples they’re never going to eat.

Thresh has a large machete in one hand and an axe attached to backpack on his back. The camera zooms in on his face as he sees the other remaining tributes.

 _“Yes! Yes! Get that axe ready, Thresh, my boy!”_ Caesar sings as Thresh pulls the axe from his back and shrugs the bag onto the ground. _“You’re going to need it.”_

Gale stiffens next to me, and his hand twitches next to Posy’s face.

“For those of you at home,” Caesar’s voice says in a far too pleasant tone, “we’ll go over our five final tributes’ names and districts.”

The camera begins to zoom in on the girl from one.

“I don’t want to know!”

I turn, completely surprised that Prim has even spoken. So far, through this whole ordeal, she’s remained practically silent, with her face hidden in my mother’s shoulder.

“I don’t _want_ to know their names and where they’re from. No when…” she sniffs and her eyes become glassy. “Not when,” her eyes dart to me, then to Posy and back to me.

“Not when only one can run the fastest.” I finish for her.

Prim bites her lip and nods. When she closes her eyes, tears begin tracking down her cheeks.

“Me either. I don’t want to know.” Gale says beside me. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair.” Vick speaks around his thumb.

“It’s not.” Gale reiterates and his arm suddenly moves from my waist. Instead, he pulls my head down to his shoulder guarding my vision, very similar to the way he has been doing for Posy.

I allow myself to be manhandled by him. The only person I’d ever allow it from. When Gale kisses my head, he strokes his fingers down the side of my face and replaces his hand on my waist. I leave my head on his shoulder and squeeze his thigh.

Caesar has finished telling us the names and districts of the tributes, and we’ve mercifully avoided it. I only know Thresh, but it’s okay, because we’re rooting for Thresh. Posy sees him on the television, squaring his shoulders; machete in one hand axe in the other, facing the career pack.

“We’re rooting for him.” She grins, and has no idea that he’s about to die.

Gale lifts Posy and turns her in his lap so that her back is to the television. He removes his hand from my waist so that he can hold his little sister’s face in both hands.

“Look at me, Pose.” He says gently and she complies without protest. “Someone is going to win soon.”

“Thresh is going to win.” She smiles.

“Maybe. He might not, but _someone_ is going to win. The thing is,” he brushes strands of her hair out of her face, “it’s not going to be very nice.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just how it works, little girl.” Gale forces a smile for her, and I also attempt to smile.

“Can I see Thresh win?” Posy asks Gale, but then looks over to me.

“He _might not_ win.” I say, as soothingly as I possibly can.

“Can I watch?” she asks again.

“No.” Gale says.

Posy looks at Gale, then back to me. Her brows are furrowed, as if she’s trying very hard to understand what is going on. I keep my eyes on Posy, despite the gasp from Prim behind me, and the distinct sound of metal on metal from the television.

“Okay.” Posy finally says to me. She looks back to Gale, and brushes his hands off her face. Instead, she places her own tiny hands on Gale’s face, and pulls him closer so she can kiss him on the nose.

It’s such an odd but gorgeous gesture, that it takes me second to process. Gale smiles at his little sister and kisses her back on the nose. Posy giggles, flings her arms around Gale’s neck, closes her eyes and hugs him.

“Tell me when Thresh wins.” She whispers.

Gale just nods.

“Oh my God.” Rory exclaims, sounding half disgusted, half impressed.

Vick has his eyes closed and Prim has her hands over her ears, face hidden by our mother.

“Oh _my God!_ ” Rory says again, and I look back to the television.

A wave of nausea hits me as my eyes land on the images.

Someone is dead. I have no idea who, but _someone_ no longer has a right arm and has an axe in their back. And it’s not Thresh.

 _“And such a shame, we will not have a winner from District Four this year!”_ Caesar informs us.

Thresh pulls his axe out of the boy from four’s back and turns on the three other shocked-looking careers.

“Hey, Pose.” Gale says quietly, eyes fixed firmly on the television. “Thresh might just have a chance.”

I agree.

Thresh’s machete narrowly misses its target of the boy from one’s chest as he throws himself out of the way, but it continues its path an sails through the air, colliding with the boy’s district partner. I recoil as blood spurts from the girl’s shoulder, and grab Gale’s arm.

The camera angle changes just in time to show a wide-shot of Thresh, slashing his machete across the stomach of the girl. My own stomach lurches in response.

 _“And, beautiful people, we are down to our final three.”_ Caesar announces. _“It will be a male winner this year, but will our winner be from District One, Two or, very surprisingly, Eleven!”_

The crowd cheers as the camera zooms in on each tribute’s face. The three of them stand, looking at each other, weapon’s held aloft. The bodies of the girl from one and the boy from four, lie motionlessly on the grass, only a short distance from the living tributes’ feet.

I grip Gale’s arm tighter and push my face into his shoulder, though my eyes remain on the screen. I _want_ to look away, I don’t want to see what will happen next, but I can’t help it. It’s addicting and terrifying and so utterly _real_ that I have to watch.

I’m disgusted with myself, but I _have_ to watch.

I’m waiting for one of the careers to lurch at Thresh, and then something happens, not one of us anticipated.

“Holy fuck.” Gale breathes, as the boy from two whips his arm to the side, and stabs the other career in the neck.

“Oh my God.” Rory says for the third time.

I watch, as Thresh, just as shocked and confused as I am, stares at the career.

 _“Why’d you kill your ally?”_ Thresh questions.

The boy from two shrugs and holds his sword out. _“Wanted you all to myself. Did you know I killed that little kid you came with?”_

Under my cheek, Gale’s arm contracts. I glance up at his face, his jaw is set as he grits his teeth. The boy from two is smiling sickly and I want to see Thresh kill him.

I hate myself for wanting it, but right now, I _hate_ that boy from two.

 _“She was very small, wasn’t she?”_ He taunts Thresh. _“My sword went straight through her and out the other side.”_ He sneers.

Thresh runs at the boy from two, abandoning his axe and wielding the machete with both hands. The boy from two is fast; he darts to the side, avoiding Thresh’s blows.

 _“It took a while for her to die!”_ he laughs, ducking away from another swipe. _“She kept crying for her mothe-”_

The camera is zoomed in on the boy from two’s face when he stops speaking, so I’m not entirely sure what has just happened. The boy looks down at something off camera, his face a ghostly white. He falls out of frame, and the image changes to a wider shot.

There are no sounds from the studio, only the arena’s sounds of Thresh’s panting and the boy’s laboured breathing and he sinks down to his knees.

Thresh steps back and sits down on the grass, watching as the boy slowly removes the machete from his torso, and places it on the grass.

I can only assume that adrenaline and shock are what is keeping the boy from two to reacting.

He’s dying.

He falls backwards and more than blood begins gushing from his middle. Suddenly, as this teenager’s innards coat the genetically modified grass, I don’t hate him so much anymore.

My mother sniffs behind me and places a hand on my shoulder.

That boy has a mother. Maybe he has brother and sisters, too. Cousins.

Gale presses his face into my hair.

Maybe that boy had a girlfriend. Maybe she’s watching. Maybe she hates Thresh.

Rory forges his way from between Vick and Hazelle, kicking me in the back in the process. I turn around to see Hazelle following him out into the back yard. Even when she closes the door after them, I can hear the sounds of his retching.

Vick stands up too, following his mother out of the door.

“And there we have it, folks. Your winner of the 74th annual Hunger Games! Thresh-“

I never hear the end of what Caesar is saying because a little red banner at the bottom of the image pops us telling us that ‘Mandatory viewing has ended’, and Gale has reached forward to turn it off.

My mother squeezes my shoulder and stands up, leading a sobbing Prim into the kitchen.

Posy sits back, and rubs her eyes.

“It’s finished now?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I answer. “It’s all over.”

“Who won?” She looks up at Gale with huge eyes.

“Thresh.”

Posy smiles brightly. It’s a contrast to the thick atmosphere of the deserted living room.

“He ran the fastest?” she grins.

Gale looks at me. He puts a hand on the back of my neck, and pulls me forward. His lips are warm against my forehead, and when he speaks, they brush my skin.

“Yes. He ran the fastest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's the end of the games....what will happen next??
> 
> Please review, thanks for reading, guys. -Panic xxx


	12. Please Can We Stay?

Posy may be thrilled that Thresh has won the Hunger Games, despite her really not knowing what that has entailed, but her upbeat attitude begins to falter as she notes the absences of our parents and siblings. I can see the exact moment she realises, that despite the ‘scary’ being over, the environment around her is certainly not back to normal, and the celebrations of Thresh’s win are dismal at best.

Posy’s brow furrows as she stands up, looking around.

“Where’s Mommy?” she asks Gale, and looks towards the back door.

Hazelle’s silhouette is perfectly visible through the grimy window next to the back door. I can see her hugging one of the boys, their head just discernable by her shoulder. I’m not sure which one it is.

Posy watches, too.

“She’s just outside with the boys.” Gale smiles his best comforting smile, the forced one he only reserves for the younger kids, and occasionally uses to irk me when he’s being particularly irritating. Right now though, it’s completely for the benefit of his baby sister. No sarcasm. He reaches out to pull Posy’s face around to his. “She’ll be back in a little while.”

Posy purses her lips and looks back to the door. “Why are the boys outside?” She turns back to him. “I want to go outside.”

“They, they’re just not feeling too, good. You stay here with me, and Katniss.” Gale’s smile remains solid, but his eyes betray him. I can tell by the way Posy’s expression fails to change, that she’s noticed it too. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” She huffs and drops back down to her seat on the floor with a pout. “I don’t like it.”

“Me neither.” Gale says gently.

“Why is Prim in the kitchen?” Her accusing eyes fall on me this time, for answers.

In the moment of hesitation I give before answering, I know I’ve lost Posy. “She’s just getting a drink.”

“That’s a lie.” She mumbles and folds her arms. “You’re not supposed to lie.”

There isn’t much I can add to the conversation. She’s right. I _am_ lying. _Gale_ is lying. We’ve all been lying through our teeth to Posy for days now. I beat down the gurgling of guilt in my stomach. Posy doesn’t press me for any more answers and her frown has dissipated. Gale rubs my shoulder.

At some point, Posy migrates over to the ‘toy box’ and begins to sift though the various items collected in it. Gale’s hand remains on my shoulder as he watches his baby sister, her quiet rummaging more of a worry than a consolation. He watches her with an expression harmonising with the turmoil in his eyes.

His grip moves to my other shoulder as he puts an arm around me. When he speaks, it’s quiet, mumbled into the hair above my ear.

“Even when it’s over, it’s not _over_. Is it?” He presses his lips to the shell of my ear. “We should be free of it for another year, and…” Gale trails off when the sound of sniffing breaks through from the kitchen.

Posy must hear it too, because she whips around and frowns at the door. Another sniff punctuates the quiet of the living room, and she turns back to the box.

My eyes burn at the sound of what can only be Prim crying, and I squeeze them shut. The warmth of Gale’s hand on the back of my neck grounds me, and even blind, I allow myself to be guided into his arms.

“One day it’s not going to be like this.” His words are almost just breaths of air that tickle my ear as he speaks. “One day it’ll be better.”

I turn my head into Gale shoulder, and press my nose against his shirt. “I’m not sure I believe you.” I whisper truthfully.

“I’m not sure I believe me either.”

Gale holds me close, rocking us slightly back and forth. It’s a nice thought, that one day we could abandon this annual feeling of terror, and the anxiety and distress leading up to it _throughout_ the year, but it’s simply an idea I cannot afford to harbour. It’s a hope that I cannot afford to have.

“Can we play this?” Posy breaks our embrace unashamedly, holding out a pack of cards containing significantly less than fifty-two.

“Yeah, sure.” Gale says. Kissing me on the forehead and pulling back.

“You going to play, Katniss?”

Posy looks up at me expectantly, but with every snivel I hear from the kitchen, my composure slips slightly. I’m finding it harder and harder to mimic Gale’s comforting smiles and gentle words.

Gale swoops in before I can answer. “Katniss is feeling pretty tired, Pose. How about she just watches?”

“Okay, but you got to be the judge in case Gale cheats.”

“I’ll be the judge.” I agree, getting up to sit on the couch, stroking a hand up Gale’s arm in silent thanks.

Posy and Gale begin their game of ‘Snap!’ and I lean back on the sofa, watching as they play, attempting to focus my mind on anything other than the Hunger Games, and of course, thinking of nothing else.

“You watching, Katniss?” Posy asks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m watching.” I lie to her, again.

I’m getting far too good at lying to children. It’s a skill I’d rather not have so much practice at.

xxxxxxxxxx

By the time Hazelle comes in from the back yard with the boys, and my mother and Prim emerge from the kitchen, it’s beginning to get dark outside. It seems to be getting darker earlier today than it did yesterday, despite the day feeling a thousand times longer.

Both Vick and Rory look fairly well composed as they enter the room. More so than I expect. I give Vick a gentle smile and he smiles back before ducking out of the room, towards his bedroom. Rory, although appearing fine as he closes the back door behind him, follows Vick without another word, and avoids looking at anyone in the eyes. When the two brothers are tucked away in their room and the door clicks closed, making them safely out of earshot, I turn to Hazelle.

“They okay?” I ask.

Hazelle stands behind the couch and rubs her thumb over my cheek. She smiles kindly, and it’s all I can do not to show how much it startles me just how _much_ she looks like Gale when she smiles like that.

Forced and comforting. - It’s unnerving.

“They will be.” Hazelle nods. She pats my shoulder and breathes deeply through her nose. “They’ll be okay.”

Hazelle’s eyes fall over to her youngest and oldest on the other side of the room. She smiles again, and when she turns back to me, it’s genuine.

“Thank you, Katniss.” She says. “Thank you for looking after them.”

It takes me a second to realise that she is including Gale in that, and I can’t help but shake my head at her.

“I didn’t, really. Gale, he-,”

She cuts me off. “You _did_. Thank you for looking after him.”

“I think Gale looked after _me_ today.” I smirk, but my expression falters at Hazelle’s serious one.

“I didn’t just mean today.” She moves over to the kitchen door where my mother is standing by Prim.

I turn back to Gale and watch as he plays with Posy.

I’ve never doubted that Gale looks after me. Never. Even when I was a stubborn little kid who wanted nothing more than to be self-sufficient, I knew that Gale was taking care of me, watching out for me. He’s watched my back for years; I guess I’ve been watching his too, and not just out in the woods.

Posy and Gale are still playing ‘Snap!’ with the part of a pack of cards in the corner. The game has lasted significantly longer than it usually would, due to Gale’s tactics to keep Posy entertained. He’s intentionally missing all the matching cards so that Posy can yell, “Snap!” and slap her hand down on the pile. I shake my head. She’d be livid if she ever thought he was letting her win.

When she walks into the room, Prim’s eyes are red and she has bags under them, but her tears seem to have stopped when she walks over and joins me on the couch. Her head drops to my chest and I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. Unlike Posy, who now that everyone is back together, seems to have recovered from the day’s events to the point that she seems completely her normal self, Prim still seems a bit shaken. Her hair is no longer in its braids and she grips me tighter than she normally would.

“Hey, little duck.” I say quietly, stroking back some of the blonde tresses out of her face. “You okay?”

It’s a stupid question to ask, because of course she’s not ‘okay’, she’s twelve and has been forced to witness things no one should ever have to, but Prim still nods.

“Yes.” She lifts her head to look at me, and smiles. “I’ll be okay.”

“Good girl.” I kiss her hard on the forehead and tighten my grip on her body.

“Ouch, Katniss,” she giggles, and it might be the best noise I’ve ever heard, “you’re squishing me!”

“Don’t care.” I squeeze harder and press a few fingers into her ribs, tickling her.

“Katniss!” Prim squeals. “Stop it!’ she arches away from my hands, and slides off the couch onto the floor, still laughing.

Mid-game, Posy abandons her cards and Gale, and rushes over to Prim’s aid, holding her arms wide in front of my sister. She grins at me, scrunching up her nose slightly as she does.

“I’ll protect you.” Posy declares to Prim, but quickly ducks out of the way once I direct my tickle-attacks at her.

“You’re no help!” Prim squeals at the younger girl as I continue my onslaught of tickles. “Posy! You were meant to be protecting me!” her laughs are quickly becoming pained gasps, and my own chest is getting tighter from my hysterics.

One of Prim’s feet narrowly misses my temple as she attempts to fight off my hands. The risk of a concussion brings me back to my senses and I leave Prim to pant giddily on the Hawthorne’s living room floor, as I settle myself back onto the couch. Prim lies on the floor by Gale’s feet, recovering but panting over dramatically. He nudges her with his toe, smirking.

“Will you live?” He asks my sister. She grins at him.

“I’m…I’m okay….I’m fine.” Prim wheezes through half-hearted giggles, holding her sides.

My mother rolls her eyes as she walks around the sofa and sits down next to me. “Well thank the Lord, I thought I was going to have to carry you home.”

Prim sits up, resting back on her elbows. “It’s not _my_ fault.” She defends, giving me a _look_. “Katniss is the one who attacked _me_.”

“It was self-defence.” I smirk. Prim straightens her back and Gale snorts.

“From _what_?” She asks.

I shrug, knowing there’s no way I’ll ever win this one.

“See,” Prim looks to my mother, “not my fault I almost passed out.”

Again, my mother answers with nothing more than a smirk and an eye roll. At least we’re all smiling again.

Posy stands behind Gale, using his back to prop herself up so that her chin rests on his shoulder. She looks behind me at her mother, absently pulling at loose threads on her brother’s t-shirt.

“Mommy, where are the boys?” She asks.

Hazelle moves from the kitchen door and perches on the arm of the couch.

“They’ve gone to bed, honey.”

“ _Already_?” Posy asks incredulously. Hazelle nods with a kinds smile and smoothens her dress over her knees. Posy grimaces. “Why?”

“They’re both pretty tired, sweets.” Hazelle holds out her hands and beckons her youngest over.

Posy obliges, and rushes past where Prim sits to be lifted onto her mother’s lap.

“It’s early though.”

“I know, Pose. But,” Hazelle sighs heavily and pats the dark strands on her daughter’s head, “they’ve had a long day, and neither one of them is too hungry right now.”

I can’t say I blame Vick and Rory. The sun is almost all the way down, and it certainly feels later than it is. I could definitely go for an early night, and as for the not being hungry thing…with everything those two boys have seen today, it’s hardly surprising that they can’t stomach a meal.

“It isn’t _my_ bedtime though, is it?” Posy clarifies.

“Not quite.” Hazelle smiles. “But once you’ve had a little something to eat, I think an early night would be best.”

Posy opens her mouth to argue, but Hazelle is a professional, and one look from her makes the little girl agree, if rather reluctantly. She slides of Hazelle’s lap and shuffles over to the cards left on the floor, dragging her feet over the threadbare rug.

“Lose the attitude, please.” Hazelle says with a raised brow that even serves to intimidate me. “Put the cards away, please.”

Posy obliges and begins shuffling the cards into a specific order, only known by her, before placing them into the box one by one. Her attempts to postpone her bedtime, while basic, seem to have the desired effect, because Hazelle just shakes her head and begins to make her way into the kitchen.

“I’m going to make Posy a little something, would anyone else like anything?” Hazelle looks to my mother.

“No, actually, we should be going.” My mother says, standing from the couch. “It’s best if we get home before it’s completely dark.”

My heart sinks.

Gale puts a hand on my foot, keeping me in place.

I don’t _want_ to go home.

For all that the past couple of days have been traumatic regarding the games, for Gale and I, they’ve been life changing. Even in my own mind, I cringe at how dramatic I sound, but it’s the truth. These hours we’ve all been trapped inside the Hawthorne’s property have proved more than anything, that Gale and I are no longer _just_ friends.

We’re no longer _just_ anything. I want at least one more night to explore this.

“Do we _have_ to go home?” Prim whines from her position on the floor.

“Yes.” My mother stands close to Prim and holds a hand out for her to take. Prim eyes it but doesn’t reach out.

“ _Please_ can we stay a bit longer?” She begs, and I also turn to look in my mother’s direction, hoping my own pleading is visible through my expression.

“It’s no trouble.” Hazelle smiles kindly. “Really.”

“See.” Prim says triumphantly, but my mother reaches out and takes my little sister’s hand anyway, pulling her too her feet.

“No, we have to go.” My mother pulls Prim over to where Hazelle stands by the kitchen door. “We’ve imposed enough. Thank you, Hazelle, for having us.”

“It’s been a pleasure.” Gale mother pulls my mother into a hug and pats her shoulder. “Really, it’s nice to have the family all together.”

The family. All of us. The family.

“Go and get our things.” My mother tells Prim. “Quickly.”

Prim shuffles off to the bedrooms to retrieve her and my mother’s few possessions, quickly returning with a sour look on her face.

“Vick and Rory say bye.” She mumbles, apparently as excited about leaving her friends as I am about leaving Gale.

“Thanks again. Bye, Gale. Bye Posy.” My mother says, ushering Prim into the kitchen. “Come, on Katniss.”

I sigh and glace down at myself, suddenly realising I’m still wearing Gale’s t-shirt I slept in, after failing to find my own in the rush of the morning.

“I’m still in Gale’s shirt.” I state blandly.

Prim raises an eyebrow and my mother looks back at me blankly.

“ _And_?” She prompts.

“Well,” I shrug, “maybe I should look for my own shirt, before coming home.” I suggest. Perhaps if I can drag out the evening using Posy’s stalling technique, we’ll get to stay with the Hawthorne’s for another night, and I’ll get to stay with Gale.

“Katniss,” my mother sighs, “you can get your shirt another time, now come on we have to go.”

I’m about to admit defeat and stand up when Gale’s grip on my foot tightens and he speaks up.

“You know, Katniss and I haven’t been able to go hunting for a few days now.” He starts and I frown at him, unable to see where he is taking this. “We don’t have school tomorrow and since the games are over, I was hoping you guys would be staying so that we could get an early start in the woods.” My mother frowns slightly. “It’s just, in a few days we’ll be back at school and if we could get a couple of whole days hunting…” he trails off, rubbing his neck and half glancing at the carpet.

I silently praise Gale for such quick thinking, before considering that maybe he’s been planning this in his head since the games finished. Technically he’s right. My mother can’t argue that an early start out in the woods wouldn’t be beneficial to us all, and in a few days once supplies have diminished, that it won’t be vital.

“It would be good if they could get out early and have a full day.” Hazelle says, and the wry smile she gives me says she’s not just defending our case for the sake of some fresh meat and something to trade at the hob. “And all Katniss needs is already here.”

“Yeah.” Gale nods. “She came in her jacket and her boots, and I’ve got a spare bag if we need it.”

Hazelle’s input and Gale’s logic appears to have swayed my mother. Her shoulders hunch in defeat and she lets out an overly dramatic sigh.

“You’re right.” My mother nods.

“So we can stay?” Prim squeals and I smile.

“No.” My mother’s words cause all of our faces to fall. “We’re going home.” She places a hand on Prim’s shoulder. “Katniss can stay.”

As my smile comes back with a vengeance and Gale grins brightly, Prim mirror’s someone who has just been brutally offended.

“That’s not _fair_.” She whines, sounding much more like a child of Posy’s age rather than twelve.

“Sorry.” My mother says unapologetically. “You know we can’t leave the house empty for too long, and anyway, you’ve got to take care of Buttercup and Lady.”

Of course _that’s_ a lie. Buttercup feeds himself for the most part; I know this because I often find odds and ends of rodents strewn about the bushes near our house. As for Lady, unless she needs milking, she’s fairly self-sufficient, and I know Prim has assured that the neighbour will milk her twice a day while we’re not home, if he get’s to keep the milk. Despite my mother’s lie, Prim’s moods seems to placate at the mention of her beloved animals, and she nods an ‘okay’.

My mother eventually manages to get Prim out of the door with a mixture of grounding threats, and promises to let her come back to the Hawthorne’s tomorrow to spend time with Vick and Rory. I wave goodbye to my mother, and hug Prim tightly, spending a few private moments to relish in the fact that she is here, safe in District Twelve, rather than lying in a box in the Capitol.

After sitting at the kitchen table with Gale, Hazelle and Posy, and eating some stale bread and reheated stew, the time comes to get the four-year-old to bed. Despite the rest of us feeling exhausted, as demonstrated by Hazelle’s weary eyes and Gale’s constant yawning, it is evident that Posy does not share the feeling.

It takes two demands for glasses of water, three claims of needing the bathroom, and six times of Posy re-emerging out of her and her mother’s bedroom, until Hazelle cracks and takes herself off to bed with her youngest in tow.

Gale’s mother pauses at the door to her bedroom and turns to her eldest son. “Before you go to bed, could you clear up the living room?” She glances around at the chairs from the kitchen and the cushions and blankets still on the floor. “Give the pillows back to the boys and put the cushions back on the couch.”

“Yeah, of course, Mom.” Gale nods but stops her before she can get completely into her room. “But Katniss is going to need the pillows to sleep on, so…”

Hazelle’s brow creases as she looks from Gale to me, and back again. “I thought Katniss would just be sleeping with you. You’ve got your room back now Prim and Mrs Everdeen are home.”

I glance over to Gale who is watching his mother with utter surprise. His brows practically reach his hairline.

“Katniss can sleep in my,” he swallows, “room?”

Gale’s voice cracks slightly, like it used to when he was fourteen, on the last word and Hazelle doesn’t even attempt to conceal the snort of laughter at her son’s expense. I myself feel a little more sympathy for him as his cheeks turn a dark hue of red, and so cover my chuckle with a cough.

“Yes,” Hazelle smiles, “Katniss can sleep in your room.”

“Cool.” Is all Gale says in response and Hazelle rolls her eyes.

“Thank you.” I say to her sincerely. She smiles. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Now, clean up the living room. I’ll see you two tomorrow, when you get back.”

Before either of us can say anything else, Hazelle ducks into her room, Posy yelling her twentieth ‘Good Night!’ of the evening.

Gale and I are left alone in the living room for the second time in two days. Gale coughs and rubs his neck.

“We should…probably…” He gestures to the mess surrounding us.

“Um, yeah.” I reply, and we begin clearing the room quietly.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

It takes Gale and I longer than anticipated to clear the living room. One of the boys’ pillows has disappeared, and it requires a whole turnover of the room until Gale eventually pulls it out from behind an old dresser in the corner.

“ _Why_ is it even behind there?” he asks, beating the dust off the pillowcase.

“I have no idea.” I smirk. “You know what the kids are like when they play games. Nothing they ever do seems to make sense to anyone but themselves.” Which is perfectly true. On more than one occasion Gale and I have been roped into playing games with our younger siblings that neither of us can decipher as having any meaning.

“Hmm.” Gale hums, crossing the room to the other pillow and tucking it under his arm. “I think we’re done here.” His eyes sweep the room, now void of kitchen chairs and blankets. “You can get settled if you like.” Gale points an elbow in the direction of his bedroom. “I’ll just be few minutes.” He smiles and takes the two pillows to his brothers.

I slip through the gap in Gale’s door through to his bedroom, and climb over the mattress to where the dresser stands. Gale boxers I wore last night for bed are neatly folded on top of it. I shimmy out of my trousers and pull Gale’s underwear on top of my own. I’ve been wearing his t-shirt for over twenty-four hours now, but it’s clean enough, so I leave it on and settle myself awkwardly in the centre of Gale’s single mattress.

The bedroom door cracks open a few minutes later and Gale pops his head around.

“Hey.” He smiles, squeezing through the gap fully and closing the door behind him. “You okay?” Gale voice drops lower as he drops down onto the mattress and crawls over to me.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Glad it’s all over?” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Until next year.”

“Until next year.” Gale agrees solemnly.

His hand stills on my cheek, but my breath catches when Gale rubs his thumb over my lips gently.

“We’ll be okay.” He tells me, pressing his forehead against mine. My eyes fall closed at the sensation of him bumping his nose to mine. “You believe me, Catnip?”

“I believe you.” As I speak, my lips brush his

Gale moves his hand from my cheek to the back of my head. I shiver as his other hand rubs a track over my bare knee and up my thigh, resting beneath the hem of his borrowed boxer shorts. His fingers scratch lightly at my scalp, and a low moan escapes my lips involuntarily. The moan is so unexpected that I cut it off with a hand clapped to my mouth. When my eyes fly open and the heat rushes up my chest, Gale is watching me with an amused smirk.

“Sorry.” I mumble from behind my hand, excruciatingly embarrassed that Gale has managed to emit such a foreign noise from me with only his finger on my scalp. I look down at where his other hand rests on my thigh, avoiding his eyes as the blush continues to rage.

“Catnip.” Even without looking up at him, I can hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, Catnip, look at me?”

The smirk originally on Gale’s face has been replaced with a shit-eating grin. At the sheer expression of what can only be described as triumph on Gale’s face, I turn away from him. It’s an attempt to look angry, but I have to admit it’s mostly embarrassment keeping me from looking at him.

Gale uses the hand still in my hair to pull my face back around to his. I grudgingly allow him to do so, my initial blush now subsiding.

His victorious air is still evident in the peripherals of his expression, but Gale’s smile is small and comforting, not forced like the ones he’s been giving Posy and the other kids. For me, this is all genuine. That knowledge dulls the embarrassment.

“You’re so cute.” Gale chuckles, rubbing my scalp again.

Despite the change in situation, the feeling of his fingers still has the desired effect and I have to swallow down another noise of pleasure.

“No one has ever called me cute in my entire life.” I frown.

“Well,” Gale kissed the tip of my nose, “I think you’re cute.” The shit-eating grin is making another appearance.

“Stop calling me cute.”

“Cute Catnip. You’re so _cute_.”

“Stop it.” I warn him again, attempting to look threatening and apparently failing if the look of amusement on Gale’s face is anything to go by.

“Cute.”

“I hate you.” I grumble.

Gale pecks the corner of my mouth, causing it to twitch up into a smile. My threatening glare falters even more and splinters into nothing.

“Do you?” Gale kisses my lips chastely.

“Yes. I hate you, Hawthorne.” I kiss him back.

“No you don’t.” He grins.

“You’re right.” I grin back, bumping his nose with my own. “I don’t.”

Gale presses his lips to mine once again, using the hand on the back of my head to tilt my face towards his. This kiss is no longer chaste. If our previous kisses tonight were breezes against my lips, then right now, Gale is giving me a storm.

It’s not innocent. It’s heated and gorgeous and so very reminiscent of our activities from the night before.

I can tell that Gale is holding back. His kisses are animalistic and I encourage him with nibbles to his bottom lip and brave swipes with my tongue, but his hands remain static in my hair and on my leg. When we pull back, Gale watches me with dark eyes. I place my hand over his on my thigh.

“Touch me.” I command in a breathy whisper.

His already dark eyes become almost black as Gale’s pupils dilate. He begins messaging my scalp and the hand on my leg becomes less stoic.

“Like this?” He asks.

“Yes.” I swallow hard and pull his face closer.

Gale’s tongue finds mine as we kiss, and the man who once fell from a twenty-five foot tree and broke three ribs without even batting an eyelash, whimpers into my mouth when I trace a line over his crotch with two fingers.

I hold on to Gale. My hands run up to his arms, shoulders, the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. The hand on the inside of my thigh rises, closer to where pleasurable throbbing becomes more insistent and longing pools in my abdomen.

Gale’s mouth moves from my lips to my jaw with a closing peck. He sucks lightly on the sensitive skin of my throat as he moves down. The moan that escapes me makes Gale chuckle, but I’m no longer concerned with mortification. Fingers on my thigh brush my underwear.

“Gale.” I hiss, pressing my face into his shoulder.

His hands still and Gale’s ministrations on my neck pause.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks quietly.

It’s so preposterous that I would _ever_ want Gale to stop doing what he is doing right now, that I almost snort. Instead, I lift my head from his shoulder, and take his face in both of my hands.

“Don’t you dare stop.” I grin, and the concern on his face evaporates.

“You’re the boss.” He rakes a fingernail over the outside of my damp underwear.

I shudder.

“And don’t you forget it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading and thank you so much for the lovely reviews and messages on tumblr!
> 
> Please do leave reviews, because I love to see what you thought. –Panic xxx


	13. "I hate you."  "No, you' don't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVENTUALLY!!! God, guys, I'm so sorry this took so long. I've had a lot going on both personally and professionally and all my fics have been pushed to the back of the pile so to say. But I'm back and ch 13 is here! Thanks for all the messages and stuff, I really appreciate it. And of course, thanks for reading! 
> 
> Enjoy. :)

Gale nudges my nose with his own, a soft demand for me to look him in the eye. I do, and he kisses my lips in a chaste response.

“You’ll tell me stop, right?” He asks quietly, searching my eyes. “If you’re not comfortable, you’ll tell me to stop?”

I frown slightly at him, unsure where this sudden hesitancy has come from. I pull back from his embrace to look at him properly, though his arms remain tightly wrapped around me.

“I want you to touch me, Gale.” I tell him, stroking a hand down his arm.

My thumb grazes a dimple in the flesh that I can identify without looking, as the scar he got when his own snare caught him while setting up another in the long grass. I’d laughed at him when it had happened, teased him for getting caught in his own trap, until I’d realised just how bad it was. It took weeks for the skin to grow back over the wound enough that he didn’t need to wear a dressing, and years later the scar is just as prominent.

“Promise me, Catnip,” Gale says gently, his grip on me strengthens a touch, “promise me that you’ll tell me if you don’t want to do anything.”

The look he’s giving me holds such a burning intensity that I find myself nodding and accidentally bumping his nose again, without so much as a conscious thought. “I promise.” His face relaxes but I remain serious. “But, only if you do the same.”

“Okay.” He smiles and cups my cheek. “I promise.”

“Okay, then.” I say, and mirror his grin.

We sit on Gale’s mattress, the blankets pushed off to the side, pulled close in each other’s arms. He rubs a hand up my bare back, under my clothes, and drops his head into the crook of my neck. I press my face into his dark hair by his ear and kiss the lobe lightly.

“You’ll be the death of me, Everdeen.” Gale mumbles into my skin. When I kiss his ear again, this time with a slight lick of my tongue, his moan reverberates through my neck, sends a shiver down my spine and a pool of wetness between my legs.

My own arms come up to wrap around Gale’s neck, and I can’t help the involuntary press of fingers into his shoulders, as Gale’s hand moves from my back around to cup one of my breasts. His thumb brushes my nipple, eliciting a gasp from me.

“Is- is that okay?” He whispers, pulling away from my neck to look at me.

I swallow hard, attempting to get a firm hold back on my senses. The throbbing between my legs is getting overwhelming and my hands itch to touch myself. Instead, I shift my weight slightly so that I can grind down on the heel of my foot. For half a second it relieves some of the tension, but then the wetness becomes more prominent and the throbbing even more insistent.

“Do that again.” I say to Gale, and he touches my nipple under my shirt again. “Again, harder.” I gasp, and with a little more confidence, he rolls the hardened nub between his finger and thumb. I attempt to cover my keen by pressing my face into Gale’s shoulder. I feel him shake as he chuckles.

“If I’d know you wanted this as much as I did, I would have asked a long time ago.” He moves on to my other nipple and the sensation is so gorgeous that I suddenly want Gale to share in this feeling.

He continues to lavish attention onto my breasts, but I fall back, and still his hands with my own.

“Do you want me to stop?” Gale’s face falls. “I wasn’t hurting you was I?”

I smile at his concerns. “No, you dope. It felt…” my cheeks burn, “…it felt, really good. I just,” I look up at Gale’s flushed face and gentle smile, “I want to make you feel good, too.”

“Catnip,” Gale grins, brushing my hair away from my face, “making you feel good, makes me feel good. Y’know, if you couldn’t already tell.” He chuckles shyly and glances down at his crotch where his cock is making itself extremely known. The sight of him straining against his shorts sends another wave of desire to my belly and I shift again to relieve some of the pressure in my own underwear.

“I want to be able to make you feel, the way you make me feel.” I look away, suddenly feeling foolish in my admittance, but he grips my chin and pulls my eyes back to his.

“Believe me when I say, you could never touch me again, and you would still make me feel incredible.”

I kiss Gale on the cheek, and he steels another peck from the corner of my mouth.

“I just want to know what you like.” I say.

Gale kisses me again, this one perfectly on the lips and not at all chaste. He nips at my bottom lip, making it sting slightly, but laps at it gently in an apology. “I want to know what you like, too, Catnip.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. How about an answer for an answer?” He suggests and I agree with a peck to his jaw. “Okay…” Gale glances away in an uncharacteristic show of shyness, then looks back to me. “I liked it when you kissed my neck, and um, my ear.”

I smile at him and dip my head to press an open-mouthed kiss to his pulse point where an adorable blush has tinged the skin a bright pink. The muscles under my lips jump and I dare to dart out my tongue to taste the heated skin.

Gale swallows so profoundly that I can feel it under my tongue. “Yep.” He breathes heavily. “Definitely like that.”

“Good.” I mumble against his neck, twining my arms around his torso. I pull back to kiss him firmly on the lips. “I’m glad.”

I run my hands down his back to the hem of his shirt, and grip the edges, pulling it up at the back. Gale seems to get the gist and pulls the rest of the t-shirt over his head in one fluid motion, leaving his chest bare. I press a kiss to where I guess his heart must be, for reasons I’m not even sure I can articulate at this point in time.

“Well then.” He says, running his hands down the whole expanse of my legs, encouraging them to wrap around his waist until I am essentially sat in his lap. Once settled, he looks at me expectantly. “Cat?”

The feeling of Gale, hard underneath me, rubbing dangerously close to where my throbs have returned in full force, seems to short out my brain of conscious thought for a moment and I respond with an attempted ‘What?’, that actually comes out more like a garbled “Wuh?”

He chuckles and rubs a hand up my spine, causing a tiny shiver. I shift my arms to twine around his neck and pull him closer. “An answer for an answer.” He reminds me, and despite the distracting hand wandering underneath my t-shirt, I manage to form a coherent thought, even if vocalisation becomes a problem.

“It- it, er” I stumble over my words frustratingly, struggling to translate feelings into actual sentences.

“What feels nice, Catnip?” Gale whispers, pressing his lips to the shell of my ear. “Tell me what you like.” When I don’t answer, he kisses my cheek and pulls back to look me in the eye, brown eyes gentler than I think I have ever seen them before, and before I can even filter the words in my mind, they are tumbling out of my mouth, clearer than anything else I have ever uttered in my entire life.

“I am so in love with you, right now.”

His eyes widen almost comically at my confession, although the panic I feel rising in my chest stamps out any hilarity there may be in the situation. One of the hands around Gale’s neck comes back to clamp over my mouth, as if somehow this will suck the words back into my body from the vacuum they float in, between us. Gale catches my hand before it meets my face, and without looking away, presses a gentle kiss to my palm. When he replaces the hand back around his neck, he’s grinning.

“You love me.” He sounds far too smug, so I scoff and roll my eyes in an attempt to dispel the overwhelming anxiety coursing through my body.

“I was…” I shrug hopelessly, hating Gale’s stupid grinning, gorgeous face, “…kidding?” I hate myself for allowing it to end as a question, making Gale only smile more.

“You love me.” He sing-songs.

I punch him in the shoulder. Hard.

“Ow!” He frowns, but the smile is still horribly evident in his eyes. “Way to ruin the moment, Katniss.” If the thing digging into my thigh is anything to go by, I have _not_ managed to ruin the moment.

“I hate you so much.” I sigh. As if I could hate this dopey, beaming idiot.

“No you don’t.” He says quietly, still smiling, but in more of an endearing way than his manic grin.

I sigh in resignation. “No, I don’t.” I agree, winding my arms back around him to pull him close for a kiss.

Our lips touch, but Gale doesn’t allow a kiss to form just yet. I quirk an eyebrow at him questioningly and he bashes my nose gently with his.

“Do you really love me?” He asks, and it’s so far from the smug, cocky Gale that was in the room only a minute ago, that it makes my chest feel tight. He’s not asking to hear it again, to make fun of me for saying it first, for not having any self-control; he’s asking because he genuinely feels the need to make sure, to confirm it.

“Of course.”

I rake my fingers through his short, dark hair at the back of his head, and somehow attempt to convey every ounce of emotion I can, through my gestures. We’ve always been better at looks and gestures than words. I think we need both right now.

“I love you so much,” I whisper against his lips, and kiss him gently, “that sometimes, it terrifies me,” I kiss him, “and I want to run away.” His grip on my waist tightens. “I am so close to getting up, and running into the woods, and just never coming back, because this is so frightening.” He listens quietly, letting me speak, and I suspect he knows this might be one of the only times I will open up to him like this, because honestly, even within the expanse of my own mind, this is new untrodden territory. I kiss him. “This,” I bump his nose, “is scarier than the games. How I feel about you makes me want to hide,” I kiss him, “makes me want to flee,” I kiss him, “because I shouldn’t need anyone else, Gale, I shouldn’t. But then I look at you and it’s like, it’s…”

“I know.” He breathes.

“It’s like I don’t _want_ to be on my own.” The revelation even startles me for a second and it takes repeating the sentiment to secure it as a true fact in my consciousness. “I don’t want to be on my own. I want to with you. And that’s why I don’t run away.”

Gale pushes his forehead hard against mine and I have to push back with equal force to stop him from hurting my neck. “You wouldn’t run away would you?” He growls lowly, though his eyes are gentle.

“No.” I answer honestly, stroking his neck.

“You wouldn’t leave without me?”

“Never.”

“Cause you and me, Catnip…” He pulls away to kiss where he’s been pressing into my head. “I love you so much more than I ever thought I could love another person.”

A lump forms in my throat at the sound of his words. I know Gale loves me, have known it in some form for a while, but hearing it, hearing him _say_ it…

“I love you.” I say.

“I love you.” He replies.

“You and me.”

“You and me, forever, Catnip. Who’d have thought it?”

“Everyone, apparently, judging by the bets.” I mutter.

“Let’s not think about anyone else tonight.” He suggests, and I couldn’t agree more.

And then he’s kissing me. His tongue is in my mouth and his teeth clash against mine and there’s a taste of blood somewhere in the midst of our lips and I can’t find it in myself to care because I am in love with Gale Hawthorne and he is love with me.

Gale’s lips find my neck, my shoulder, his tongue delves into my clavicle and he bites and sucks there and I laugh because I know what he’s doing. “Marking me, Hawthorne?” I gasp, as he soothes a particularly strong nip with his tongue.

I can feel him smiling against my shoulder. “Marking my territory.”

“If you think I’m _your_ territory, you’ve got another thing coming.”

He laughs breathlessly and kisses the mark in a seal. “Too right. We both know you’re no one’s territory.”

“Damn straight.” I grin. “But for the record, if I was going to belong to anyone, it would be you.”

“Ditto.” He kisses me once on the mouth, then my shirt is off and I’m bare chested in front of Gale’s predatory gaze.

I think that perhaps being the prey in certain situations is preferable.

He lifts me off his lap effortlessly and lies me down on his mattress, far too gently for the expression on his face.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to st-“

“I’ll _tell_ you.” I promise.

Gale’s mouth closes around one nipple and it’s the strangest and yet, most erotic sensation I think I have ever experienced. I can’t help but arch my back to get closer to his mouth, to encourage his ministrations. He alternates between the two, swirling his tongue around one hard peak, and squeezing and thumbing at the other.

The house is small. The walls are thin, and I’m trying my damn hardest to keep the embarrassing noises to a minimum, but when Gale’s teeth nip at my nipple and his other hand flicks my clit over my underwear, all logical thought is banished. The slowly expanding coil at the bottom of my belly lets loose, and it’s the best feeling I’ve ever experienced in all my years on the planet.

I come with a shout that I have no recollection of hearing, but Gale’s hand clamped down on my mouth, and his elated smile, seem to indicate my noisiness. It comes with significant surprise to me, that I am not at all embarrassed by what has just transpired, and that may have a lot to do with the smile Gale is giving me.

“Fucking hell, Katniss.” He grins, and revokes his hand from my face. “Thought you were gonna wake the whole house. I take it you liked that?”

I have yet to regain the power of speech so I just nod dazedly.

“You’re so sexy like that.” He smiles and kisses my cheeks.

I shift underneath him slightly, and my knee brushes Gale’s crotch accidentally. He hisses in a breath and squeezes his eyes tight shut.

“Sorry.” I say, unsure really when I have done, and he smiles, eyes still closed.

“It’s okay, it’s fine.” He assures me. “Just, y’know, sensitive.” Gale slowly opens his eyes as he seems to regain some semblance of control. He smiles at me sheepishly. “Seeing you, like _that_ , it make it hard to control, and I don’t want…” he trails off adorably and ends up just shrugging at me helplessly.

“Lie down.” I instruct, squirming out from underneath Gale. My legs still feel shaky, but I have recovered enough to move out from under him.

“Huh?” He frowns, still on all fours on the bed.

“Lay down.” I repeat. “Come on, in nudge his hip with my own. “On your back, like I was.”

“Katniss, I-,”

“Just do it.”

“ _Okay._ God you’re so bossy.” He smirks, lying down in my vacated spot. “Not that I’m complaining.”

I swing a leg over his and settle myself into the gap between his knees on the bed, kneeling and bending over to kiss him languidly. Gale’s hands roam my bare back, and he begins to bring one back around to my breasts, when I stop him, pulling away and smiling.

“That’s an evil smirk, Catnip.” He says, as I shuffle further down the bed. “What you up to?”

I hook two fingers on either side of Gale’s hips around the waistband of his boxers and tug gently.

“Oh, that’s what you’re up to.” He mumbles.

I pull more firmly at the shorts and Gale lifts his hips to aid my attempts of removing them. This is the second time in two days I’ve done this, freed Gale of his underwear, but something pulls in the pit of my stomach as I discard them over the side of the mattress, telling me that this time we’ll be going ever further than last night.

The thought of Gale’s hand guiding my own, wrapped around his erection last night, makes a blush rise in my cheeks and grin tug at my lips. I bite my lower lip to stop the grin spreading, and tentatively reach out to repeat the actions of last night. As my hand wraps around his shaft, Gale hisses and inhales sharply, eyes fluttering closed.

“I take it you like that?” I tease, moving my hand up and down his cock, agonisingly slowly.

Gale’s eyes open and he smiles dopily at me, propping himself up on his elbows for what I presume is a better view. “Yeah. Cat, it’s safe to say I _really_ like that.”

“You like it when I touch you?” I ask, running my thumb down the underside of his cock experimentally.

“Yeah.” He breathes.

“What-what about if I…?” I trail off, unsure how to breach the subject, and instead decide just to take the initiative, go with my instincts. Gale’s forehead creases as I move my hand down to grip his shaft firmly, but as I place my lips around his leaking head, all expression on his face melts away.

“Fuck…Katniss…I…” He arches his back and his hips jerk off the bed. I use my free hand to press him back down into the mattress, as I use my tongue to circle around the head of his dick, in the same way he was lavishing my nipples earlier.

“Oh… oh God, Cat…” I have no idea really what I’m doing. All I have to go on is overheard lewd conversations in the school bathrooms with some of the older girls from the town, but Gale’s facial expressions and the moans he’s attempting to muffle with a hand in his mouth, are perhaps all I need to guide me through this new experience.

Gale bites the side of his palm as I continue my attentions on his erection. The more I dare to take in my mouth and the more confidence I get, the more Gale whimpers and pants, one hand gripping the sheets on his mattress, the other resting on the back of my head, gripping my braid in time with the sounds. I hum, more in my own satisfaction than anything else, but it must have a positive affect on Gale too, as the hand in my hair tugs harder than before, almost pulling me off him.

“K-Katniss…Catnip..” He gasps when I hum again, hoping to elicit another reaction. “Cat…y’need to stop…stop…”

He doesn’t sound as though he wants me to, still panting and hips bucking against me, despite his words, but I stop my ministrations immediately at his insistence.

“Sorry.” I say, letting him out of my mouth. “You okay? Did I do something wrong?” For him to have asked me to stop, I’m worried I’ve gone to far or hurt him, but Gale just shakes his head dazedly and grins over at me.

“No, Cat, no. You were doing it far too right.” He takes a second to close his eyes and take in a shuddering breath. “I was gonna…” I frown at him in question and he raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “ _Y’know_ ”.

It dawns on me what he means and I know without being able to see my face, that I am wearing an expression not too dissimilar from Gale’s before when he made me come without even taking off my underwear; smug and thrilled.

“Yeah.” He coughs.

“What if I want you make you…?” I copy his shrug and Gale coughs again.

“That would be…I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to…”

“I _want_ to.” I assure him, and stroke a hand down his thigh.

Gale moves the hand still resting on my head, around to rest by my cheek and stroke the top of my nose. “You sure?” he asks, and I nod assuredly. “Just, just stop if you don’t want to-,”

I don’t give him time to finish his sentence as I wrap my lips around the head of his cock once more, now with a newfound goal in sight, and begin moving a hand up and down his shaft in time with my mouth. The hand on my cheek fists back in my hair, and I watch Gale’s face, mesmerised, as he watches me attempt to make him come with my mouth. The thought, more than my actual actions, sends more gripping desire to the bottom of my belly.

I pump his dick with my hand as I suck, more and more demandingly, and somewhere my rhythm goes slightly askew, making me half hit myself in the face in the process. At any other time, I expect it would have been hilarious, that he and I would have laughed about it for hours, and maybe, we will, but right this second, Gale’s chest is rising and falling in rapid succession and his eyes are locked on mine.

The hand in my hair fists impossibly tighter and Gale’s hips jerk roughly under my hand.

“Cat…I’m gonna…Cat…” the last calling of my nickname from his lips, comes out as more of a garbled cry, obscured by the hand Gale thrusts back into his mouth to smother the exclamations.

His hips jerk up one last time, Gale’s abdominal muscles going ridged, and dick in spasm under my tongue, as he spills himself into my mouth. It’s such an odd and unfamiliar sensation, that it causes me to pull back in surprise, Gale falling out of my mouth with a ‘pop’, and his hand falling out of my hair. I reach up and wipe away the spill at the corners of my mouth, swallowing the rest, when no other option immediately jumps out at me. When I look back to Gale’s face, he’s gawking at me.

“What?” I ask, slightly self consciously, even though he’s the one completely naked under me.

“Did you just swallow that?” He asks, lips twitching.

“Yeah…” I trail off when the twitch becomes a grin. “What else was I supposed to do?” I say somewhat more defensively than I had first intended.

“Not gonna lie, Catnip, that’s hot as hell.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “That was…thanks.” He settles on, reaching forward to take my hand and tugging me up to lie on the mattress beside him.

“You don’t have to thank me.” I mumble semi-awkwardly, shuffling up the bed and settling at Gale’s side. He wraps an arm around my bare shoulders and pulls me closer until my head is resting on his shoulder.

“I really think I do.” He chuckles and presses his nose into the top of my head. “I appreciate it.”

_Appreciate it._

I pull back to give him the most incredulous look I can muster. “Appreciate it?” I scoff, more amused than anything. “God, Gale, I just gave you blow job, not loaned you a pencil.”

He blushes red and glances away sheepishly. “Well,” he looks back at me with enough of a smile that I know I haven’t offended him, “I just wanted you to know I’m very grateful.”

I kiss him and snuggle back into his side. “Ditto.” I mumble into his chest. “For, er, before. I _appreciate it_.”

“I hate you.” He says in monotone.

“No, you don’t.” I counter.

“No, I don’t.”

Gale fumbles for a minute at his side of the mattress before pulling the blanket over both of our bodies. “I _was_ going to send you a ‘thank you’ card, but now I just won’t bother.” He jokes, moving his arm from around my shoulder, to my waist and tickling me slightly. The muscles under his fingers jump at the sudden intrusion.

It must be late. There’s no clock in Gale bedroom, but I can’t see the moon through his tiny window behind out heads, giving some semblance of time. I don’t want to go to sleep yet. Gale’s body is warm under my cheek and his fingers stroking lazily down my waist are lulling me into a sense of security I haven’t felt since…ever, really. I want to live in this little bubble of serenity in the centre of Gale’s mattress, forever. Or at least, for a little while longer.

But my eyes are beginning to sting with the effort of keeping them open, and everything that has happened over the past couple of days is catching up to me. I supress a yawn, breathing heavily through my nostrils, only for another to come along seconds later.

“Go to sleep, Catnip.” Gale hums into my hair.

“Not tired.” I lie, just to irk him.

“Whatever.” He kisses my temple then lets his lips rest there.

Despite my insistence, I close my eyes. My hand finds Gale’s under the covers, and I thread my fingers through his.

“Night, Katniss.” Gale whispers.

“Night, Gale.” I whisper back.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review, please! I love to read them. :)  
> xxx


	14. I'm Sorry but What Else Can I Say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this was later than planned. I promised this chapter to several of you four days ago, but unfortunately, as many of you know, my grandmother passed away last week. Thank you for the lovely messages I received both on here, ff.net, and on tumblr. It was a hard time, still is, but my family and I are working through it. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Morning comes too soon. Not that it’s obviously morning. Gale’s room has no windows so there’s no relying on the light of dawn to indicate the time, but years of waking up with the birds means that Gale and I are in the habit of rising before everyone else in the house, regardless of the light of day. Yesterday morning was an anomaly for us.

Gale shifts beside me, fingers pressing into my bare stomach, my back against his chest. He blows hot breaths on the back of my neck, which would be unpleasant if it were anyone other than Gale.

“Time is it?” I mumble into Gale’s sheets, more reluctant than usual to get out of bed.

His shoulder moves next to my ear, in what I can only guess is a half-hearted shrug. The steady breaths on my neck stutter and I feel it down the length of my body as Gale’s muscles tense and tremble in a morning stretch.

“Mmm. Maybe you should go check.” I suggest, completely indicating the opposite when I reach down and twine my fingers with Gale’s on my belly. It should be frightening how comfortable and familiar the gesture feels, but instead I allow the feeling to encapsulate me.

“Maybe _you_ should go check.” He mutters into my neck, but even as I smirk at his words, Gale is untangling his legs from mine.

Where his body has been pressed to mine, a chilly sensation replaces the feeling of Gale’s warm skin as he stands on the mattress and steps over my body. I turn onto my back and watch as he searches for his clothes, kicking the various items of clothing on his floor around with his feet, before abandoning his floor search and going to the dresser for some clean clothes.

Gale dresses quickly and moves to duck out of the room. “I’ll be back in a sec.” He tells me, closing the door after him.

As I lie in Gale’s bed, it occurs to me that this is quite possibly the first time I have been alone, completely alone, since before arriving at Gale’s house two days ago. Three days ago? They’ve all blurred into one long and very confusing memory of tears and laughter and warmth and disgust.

Some things are just difficult to think about. I take the opportunity of solitude to fully absorb exactly what has happened over the past forty-eight hours or so, because a lot _has_ happened.

Gale and I for one, but even outside the realms of Gale and I, my life has changed. For starters, when I go back to school tomorrow, there will be no one in my class called ‘Peeta Mellark’, and there will be a girl in my year group who no longer has a little sister. I wonder if she’ll be at school; if Peeta’s brothers will stay at home with their parents to grieve, or if they will make the effort to attend school. Maybe they’ll want to see their friends.

I just don’t know.

Delly Cartwright’s sister is dead. I can’t even fathom how I would be feeling if Prim-

But no, Prim is safe, at home in bed, probably with that stupid cat. So are Gale’s brothers and Posy, and our mothers. We’re all safe. It’s all over. We’re safe.

For now.

A selfish thought begins plaguing my mind, and I attempt to force it out, get up and begin getting dressed, focusing on choosing one of Gale’s ‘floor shirts’ to wear and pulling it on. The thought knocks on the inside of my skull, bouncing from end to end on my cranium so that when Gale re-enters the bedroom it spills from my mouth as an uncoordinated mess.

“I would hate it. I wouldn’t know what to say to them. What do you say?”

Gale frowns at me and closes the door, coming to sit next to me on the mattress. He hands me my own clothes, he must have picked them up from somewhere else in the house. I don’t change out of his shirt.

“Care to explain that a little, Catnip?” He asks, rubbing a thumb gently over my chin.

It takes me a good few seconds to organise the words in my mind and Gale bumps his knee against mine.

“I was just thinking about Peeta and that other little girl. Delly’s sister.”

“In the arena?” Gale assumes and I shake my head.

“No, no just their families. Peeta had brothers. Has brothers.” I say and Gale glances away for a second, before looking back at me and giving a small sad smile.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I knew them. They’re good guys.”

“And his parents.” I muse. “His _Dad_. God,” I breathe, thinking of Mr Mellark, standing at the back door of his bakery, trading with us for squirrel behind his wife’s back, “Peeta’s dad. He must be devastated.”

Gale hums beside me and puts a gentle hand on my neck. “Yeah. They’re good people.” His hand moves to my shoulder and his grip tightens. “They’re good people. It’s just…just shit.”

“Shit.” I agree. “But, I mean, what do you say to them? When you see them at school or wherever, what do you _say_?” It’s my turn to look away. “What do _I_ say? Delly’s in my class and…and, Peeta’s Dad, we see him all the time.”

Gale sighs and drops his head to my shoulder for a second, pressing his lips to an exposed section of my neck. His stubble scratches lightly at my skin and I bring a hand up to trace the whiskers on his jaw.

“Isn’t that the question?” He mumbles. “I guess, you just say you’re sorry, because you can’t make them feel better.”

“No, you can’t. I agree.”

“But, I think it’s more like respect. ‘I’m sorry for you loss’ is what people say, even though what they mean is ‘I’m sorry your child was murdered by other children’.”

“I’m sorry your little sister was bludgeoned to death by a fifteen year old boy.” I think of Delly.

“I’m sorry you had to watch your little brother cry for his mother in his final breaths.” Gale says quietly. Peeta’s death was rather horrific.

“I’m sorry the world works this way.” I say, holding Gale’s head to my shoulder. “I’m so sorry we all had to grow up like this.”

“Me too.” He whispers into my neck.

I wrap my arms around Gale’s and shift our positions to rest my head on his bicep. “This is all kinds of fucked up, isn’t it?” I sigh into his shirt. I feel his arm tense beneath my cheek.

“Maybe it’ll not be like this forever.” He says dully, without hope.

“Maybe.” I agree.

“Maybe it _will_ be like this forever.”

“Maybe.” I agree.

…

It’s still dark when we walk to the meadow. We don’t speak. That’s not unusual. This early in the morning our voices cut through the quiet like diamonds on glass, and we can’t risk being caught, especially if there are any Capitol Peacekeepers still hanging around. We’ll stay quiet until we’re deep in the sanctity of the woods and the Capitol no longer has a hold over us. At some point, Gale’s hand slips into mine, and squeezes. It makes walking in a single-file more difficult, but I don’t let go.

Things have changed, and if we had any doubt about the fact before, it’s concrete now; we’re in this together, for the long-haul.

The tell-tale buzz of the fence is mercifully absent when we arrive at our usual spot, and in order to shuffle through the hole in the wire, I have to let go of Gale’s hand. I don’t like the feeling. For an action so new in our relationship, I’ve quickly become more reliant on the comfort of holding Gale’s hand, or just touching some part of him, more than I would care to admit. Self-reliance is something I’ve developed out of necessity. Relying on another person; now that is frightening.

He follows me through the gap and places a hand on my back once we’re inside the woods. Perhaps he feels the same. I lean into his hand for a second and hope that’s enough to convey my emotions that even I cannot fathom properly.

Poor Gale. How he copes with me as a friend I do not know. I snort at that and Gale gives me a sidelong glace of confusion. I shake my head at him. _Don’t worry about it._ He taps my back lightly with two fingers. _Whatever you say_.

The sky is no longer black by the time we make it to the log that holds our bows. The stars are disappearing one by one as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. Gale’s hand remains on my back.

“We better get moving, Catnip.” He says quietly, shouldering his quiver. “We’ve missed a few days already.”

He’s right. As much as my mother and Hazel pretend that we’re doing okay, Gale and I both know that these past couple of days, where none of us have been able to work, have dropped our families into dangerous territory. There are only so many meals our mothers, Gale and I can miss, so that that kids can eat, before we will become helpless to them. We’ll have to stay out all day to make up for at least some of our losses. It takes a lot of rabbits to and wild turkey to keep our families going.

“Come on.” I mumble, cocking my head in the direction of the higher ground. “If we’re quick the deer will still be up high. Maybe we can get lucky.” It’s unlikely we’ll see any deer, but the higher ground in early morning draws in many of the nocturnals.

“Wonder if they missed us?” Gale smirks.

“Somehow I doubt it. They’ve had a few free days.” I comment, following our path through the trees towards the stream.

Something in me comments on the resulting irony in the fact that while Gale and I were forced to watch the murder of innocent children, the animals in the woodlands have been allowed to roam without our threat. I’ve been murdering animals for my own benefit for years, long enough that I’ve become completely disillusioned to the gore and violence. Prim once cried when Buttercup killed a rat. What would she think if she saw me wringing a rabbit’s neck? I wonder if that numbness happens in the arena. I’ve killed enough rabbits that no empathy is left for them when I see them caught up in Gale’s snares. If you kill enough kids, does it eventually just stop affecting you?

How many does it take until you just stop caring?

How many, until children just become rabbits caught in snares?

A squirrel runs into my eye line and without a second thought I loose an arrow into its eye. Killing it is an instinct. I’m not sure how that makes me feel.

When I look away from the unmoving rodent, Gale jogs over to the site and lifts the animal up by the arrow through its head. I wonder if I would do that in the arena. Killing, after all, is instinct. I’d be neutralising a threat. The squirrel; an innocent passer-by.

“It can be a gift.” Gale says, removing the arrow and placing the squirrel in his bag. He hands me back the arrow.

“Huh?” I ask dumbly, rubbing the blood off the arrow with my fingers. It sticks to my nail beds stubbornly and I consider spitting on my hands to get it off. Instead, I nock the arrow and look away from my hands.

“The squirrel.” Gale clarifies, patting his game bag. “We can give it to Peeta’s dad as a gift.”

“Sorry your son had his guts ripped from his body, here’s a squirrel.” I scoff and continue walking. Gale follows me silently. “I’m sorry.” I say without looking back. It’s not his fault that stupid little things are getting to me. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

He’s quiet for a second, and part of me thinks he’s going to start giving me the silent treatment, but then he says, “How about ‘sorry for your loss, we’d like you to have this’?”

I think of Peeta’s kind father, and of his horrid wife who has lost her youngest son, and of the brothers I barely knew but who Gale knows, and of the boy who save my life with a burnt loaf of bread five years ago. It wasn’t fair the way he died.

“Yeah.” I say. “I think that’s good.” It’s not, but it’s the best Gale and I can do. “I’m glad you’re never going to have to go in there.” I add as an afterthought.

“In where?” Gale asks from behind me, though I’m sure he knows.

“The arena.”

“You’ll never have to go in there either.” He says, so surely, that I could almost believe him.

I shake my head, and focus on the path through the trees up ahead. “You can’t know that.” I say and pretend to be looking for floor dwellers, instead using the time to stem the stinging at the back of my eyes. “I’ve still got two more to go.”

“If it happens, we’ll run away.”

“Run away?” I scoff, not in the mood to buy into Gale’s revolutionary plans today.

“Yes. We’ll run, you and me.” He says. “We’ll grab everything, everyone, and we’ll just go and never stop.”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“Maybe I have, Catnip, but it’s the only plan I got.” He sounds remorseful, sighs so heavily his breath hitches at the last second. “I’m working on it.”

We walk in silence for a few miles, the only indication that Gale is following me are his slow breaths, slightly increasing in speed as the incline gets steeper. His footfalls are so practiced that he could be gliding through the woodland. The sky is now alight with watercolour pinks and reds, dousing the whole wood floor with a speckled affects as it filters through the trees. It’s so much prettier than District 12’s bleak grey. Maybe it would be nice to run away.

It’s impossible, but the thought provides some comfort. I guess that’s how Gale feels. I guess I get it.

Gale’s hand on my elbow stops me. He taps twice. Two o’clock. My eyes dart in the direction and spot the doe, grazing by a thicket, unaware of our presence. I must have missed it, distracted with the hope of running through a painting with Gale by my side. I can’t afford to let false hopes overtake real-life.

The doe spots us, but freezes, head half raised. She’s only young, but almost fully-grown. Inexperienced enough that she’s drifted too far from the herd.

Gale could take it out, I know he could. He’s competent, or rather talented enough with a bow to have already taken down the large doe without even alerting me to its company, but I know why he’s taken the risk of alerting me; I’m a better aim. And we need this. We don’t get opportunities like this. Frolicking through sun-drenched woodlands is lovely, but a dead deer is what we need in our lives. A dead deer means a bit more life for us.

Every man for himself and all that. Sounds like arena talk.

The doe goes down with no suffering. Like the squirrel, an arrow in its eye, the rest of its hide unmarred and the meat untouched. Perfect shot. Well, not too perfect for the dead doe.

“Ha!” Gale laughs and takes off in the direction of the deer, no longer concerned for scaring the other animals. An eighth of this deer could fill our families stomachs for a week and the rest could be sold, traded to feed them for the rest of the month, maybe more. “We could take this to the Hob now,” he says excitedly, removing the arrow, “and come back later.”

“But we’ve only been out an hour.” I protest, eyeing the orange sky.

Gale turns to me. “It’s not total daylight yet, and if not we’ll have to wait until nightfall.” He’s right of course. “Where would we hide it? The wild dogs will get to her.”

“I suppose that wouldn’t be very dignified for her.” I muse.

“It’s what she would have wanted.” Gale grins, and hefts the large animal onto his back, steps straining with the weight.

“I’m not sure that’s entirely true.”

…

It’s practically a military operation to get the doe through the fence, across the meadow, through the Seam and into the Hob without being seen, but we manage it. Or we manage it best we can and rely on more than one early riser turning a blind eye to Gale and I. Even for the Seam, seeing Gale and I doing a frantic jog across the District, Gale stumbling with the weight of a deer, is unusual. Gale and I are good hunters, great hunters, but getting a fill like this is so rare, it’s bound to attract a few eyes.

We enter the Hob.

Or more than a few eyes.

We ignore the stares and barely concealed whispers of the Hob’s patrons and head straight for Greasy Sae’s. Darius is huddled over a bowl of something grey and steaming, but abandons the soup to stand as Gale approaches with the doe.

Darius whistles, eyeing the deer. “You gonna tell me you just found that lying in the Seam, eh?” He grins, shaking his head in disbelief.

Gale let’s the deer drop from around his shoulders. “You got someone who can prepare this?” He asks Sae, ignoring Darius.

She shouts to a young man I vaguely recognise, and that Gale obviously knows as they exchange ‘manly’ shoulder grabs when he approaches. That makes me smirk. Men are weird.

“How much you looking for, Hawthorne?” Sae asks as the young man drags the deer to the back of her trading booth.

Gale turns to me. “Katniss?” He asks. “How much do you reckon?”

Sae straightens her back, ready to haggle, but frankly, I’m not in the mood. Perhaps it’s the lingering disgust at the Capitol or the depression of the Games, but I’m feeling generous.

“We keep an eighth of the meat,” I say, looking to Gale for any sign of disagreement, “and your call for the rest.” On any other day, we’d pay for someone to prepare the doe, then take most of it off their hands and sell the parts individually; hide, hooves, bones, good meat, tough meat, etc. Today though, it just feels better to take slightly less, let Sae get the benefit. Or maybe I’m being selfish and just don’t want the hassle.

Gale nods along with me, apparently in agreement.

“Sounds good.” Sae nods. “You got anything else.”

“Not yet.” Gale says quickly.

“Fair enough. Sit,” Sae instructs, “that’s a big haul, I’ll get you something hot.”

We both sit, me next to Darius, and Gale beside me, because you can’t say no to Sae, and quite frankly, I’m staving. She sets a bowl in front of each of us. Whatever Sae served Darius, Gale and I are getting something better, more appetising. The Peacekeeper eyes our soup jealously.

“How come you get the good stuff?” He asks, tugging on my braid and poking the end into my ear.

I squirm away from Darius and bat his hand. “Because we brought the goods.” I say, giving up on my spoon and instead just lifting in the bowl to my lips, gulping down the soup.

“Also, we’re far less irritating than you.” Gale grumbles.

“Hey,” Darius point at Gale with his spoon, “I’m your superior. _And_ I highly doubt you found that deer just laying around.”

“It was in Gale’s backyard.” I smirk. “It was a danger to the community, we did what we had to.”

Darius rolls his eyes and turns away from me to talk to another of the Hob’s regulars. Gale laughs quietly into his food.

“What?” I ask him, shrugging. “Can he prove that we did not find that doe threatening your family?”

Gale laughs full, then. Throwing his head back and pressing a hand to his chest. “Er, yeah, Catnip. I think he probably can. What was it threatening my family with? A knife?”

I scoff and kick him lightly in the ankle. “Obviously not. How would it hold a knife? It doesn’t even have thumbs.”

“Yeah, a lack of thumbs is what makes that story unbelievable.”

“Whatever.” I shrug. “He won’t do anything.” I assure Gale.

“Yeah, if only because he thinks he has a shot with you.”

“Ew, Gale. He’s _old._ ” Technically he’s only a few years older than Gale, but still. “And anyway,” I drop my voice, “I got you now.”

Gale raises an eyebrow at me. “Oh yeah?” He smirks. “I’m the only reason you’re keeping your hands off Darius?”

“Well,” I tease, living for winding up Gale, “ _he_ does bring me cookies.”

“I’ll bring you cookies.” Gale declares. “One with like, flowers on ‘em. Shit like that.”

“You’re such a romantic.” I drawl, and finish my soup.

“Damn straight.” Gale gulps down the last of his soup, too, pushing the bowl towards Sae to catch her attention. “We’ll be back tonight.” He says, sliding off his chair.

“I’ll have everything ready for you.” She says to him, then turns to me with a kind smile. “I always knew you two would be good _together_.”

Before I even get a chance to stutter out a response, Sae has turned away from us, already shouting at two young boys, hanging around her stall.

“How…” Gale stares past me at the old woman. “How did she even know?” He asks.

“Woman’s psychic.” I supply. “Has to be only explanation.”

“Has to be.” Gale agrees. He shakes off Sae’s comment and turns back to me. “We should get back to the woods.”

I’m about to reply an affirmative when one of the miners jogs into the Hob and calls across the warehouse.

“They’re back from the Capitol. The kids are back.”

Murmurs stretch across the people, and my mind can’t compute what he has said. The kids are back? What kids? We had no victors, no where _near_ close to anything of the sort. People begin filing out of the Hob around us. I look up to Gale for some sort of confirmation of my confusion, but all he wears is an expression of sorrow.

“Who...?” I trail off when Gale wraps an arm around my shoulders to steer me out of the Hob.

“Peeta and the little girl. They’ve brought their bodies back.” He says to me quietly.

“Oh.” Is all I manage, and it’s drowned out by one of the other men from the Seam who shakes his head as we all walk towards the town square together.

“There’ll be no open caskets for them. There was barely anything left of the girl.”

“I know.” Another man replies. “And the poor lad, they’ll have had to stich him back together.”

“Just happy it’s not my little one.”

“And me.”

“Same here.” The other men begin to agree.

Gale tightens his arm around me. The families will be waiting in the square.

What do you say?

I’m sorry your children are dead.

I’m sorry for your loss.

I’m not sorry it’s you and not me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review please? xxxx


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